


Lazarus Rising

by cherie_morte



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Barebacking, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Famous/Not famous, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rock Star Jensen Ackles, fast food slow burn, past character death of serious illness (off screen)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/pseuds/cherie_morte
Summary: Jared’s had a rough year. His boyfriend dumped him and he's out of work, saddled with a pile of student loan debt after dropping out of school to care for a sick relative. Hoping to cheer him up, his sister enters him into a contest for an unusual prize: ten days alone with world famous rock star Jensen Ackles, Jared's childhood hero. No cameras, no entourage, just a chance to get to know one of the biggest names in music one-on-one.Jared wins, but it's not the dream come true it should be. It's been a long time since Jensen's glory days, and he's fallen on hard times himself. Fresh out of his fourth stint in rehab, Jensen is now better known for his bad attitude and party lifestyle than his music. When he arrives, Jensen turns out to be even worse than the tabloids say. Jared can hardly stand him and the feeling seems to be mutual, but Jensen's label is offering a generous per diem and Jared needs the money almost as much as Jensen needs the good press.As the days pass and Jared begins to see through Jensen’s bad boy act, he discovers a heart that beats to the same broken rhythm as his own. But ten days go quickly, and it's hard to imagine a future outside of the quiet world they've shared in Jared's home.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 117
Kudos: 436





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been an entire odyssey to get through. I started it for [spn_J2_bigbang](https://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) last year right around the time my mom got sick and was not in the right head space. Lucky for me, I had some first readers tell me not to post because it wasn't up to par. Now I have picked it back up for another year's bigbang, and it feels very right that this is the first long fic I finish now that mom has recovered. I have had to rewrite and rework this more than anything I've ever written and I think it just might be my longest story ever, but I've finally gotten it to a place where I'm really proud of what I'm putting out and I just hope that the love I put in shows through for readers!
> 
> I have so many people to thank for getting this to where it is:
> 
> [commaolivia](https://twitter.com/commaolivia), [starshinedean](https://twitter.com/starshinedean), and [dugindeep](https://twitter.com/iwinsoiwin) were all brutally honest with me last year and saved me from posting a truly uninspired version of this. Thanks to them, I took the time to make this story the one I had in my head.
> 
> My wonderful Defend Your Dissertation Club, [kelleigh](https://twitter.com/glitterstorm), [zuben_eschamali](https://twitter.com/st0rm_at_sea), [quickreaver](https://twitter.com/quickreaver), [ashtraythief](https://twitter.com/Ashtraythief), [rozearkana](https://twitter.com/Rozearkana), and Cuchy-Coo for gathering to not only poke holes in every paragraph but also being ready with thoughtful and constructive suggestions on how to fix the issues going forward. A lot of things I wouldn't have thought of on my own were born in that ZOOM call. They did everything from identify characterization flaws to picking out inconsistency to keeping me honest by making sure I was sufficiently objectifying Jared. I do not pay them enough for all they do. Nor do I intend to start doing so. Haha, suckers.
> 
> My artist, [velvet_impala](https://velvet-impala.tumblr.com/), who has been so patient with me being a chicken with my head cut off and who was very open to collaborating on the piece to make it really reflect the fic. You can view the art [here](https://velvet-impala.tumblr.com/post/621684501618343936/read-it-on-ao3).
> 
> [dephigravity](https://twitter.com/dephigravity) who believed in this story even though I did not get it done in time for our collab. I still had so much fun during the time we spent talking about it. We'll always have *checks notes* our potatoes.
> 
> And of course, our fearless leader, [wendy_d](https://twitter.com/wendy_d), whose mercy and patience know no bounds year after year.
> 
> I really hope you guys all enjoy this story. ♥

“Now sign here, here, here, and here.” The woman—Genevieve, she said her name was Genevieve—smiles at Jared apologetically as she turns a few pages and adds, “Oh, also here, here, and there.”

“Am I buying a house or adopting a rowdy rock star?” Jared jokes.

Genevieve laughs, turning to the back of the pile and positioning the pen over yet another blank line. “I promise this is the last one.”

“I did read over the copies you sent me,” Jared tells her as he works. “I’m not signing blind here. But you guys haven’t slipped anything new in since then, right? I’m not promising my soul to Beelzebub, am I?”

“Nope, just letting him live in your house for ten days,” she mutters. She looks up at Jared and his face must be as uncertain as he feels, because she immediately tries to paste on a bright expression. “That was a joke, obviously.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Jared hands her back the stack of papers and leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “So be honest here, is he as bad as everyone says? Any pointers I should know on how to tame the beast?”

“You’re supposed to be a _fan_ ,” Genevieve teases. She hesitates a moment, standing in front of Jared with the documents cradled to her chest, and bites her bottom lip. “Don’t let him convince you to let him drink, okay? I swear he’s a half decent guy when you catch him sober.”

“Uh,” Jared replies. “The lawyers assured me before I agreed to this that it wouldn’t be an issue. They said after the last bout in rehab he really had the situation under control. That…was true, right? I mean, he wouldn’t actually ask me to—?”

“Of course not!” She hefts the contracts in her arms up. “This is all just standard procedure.”

Jared lifts an eyebrow, unconvinced, but before he can carry on the conversation, the camera crew that took over his living room call out that they’re ready for his interview.

He sighs, wondering why he agreed to any of this, then remembers that playing ecstatic fanboy hadn’t been in the original deal. When the ads about this contest were all over his television, the fact that the winner would get to enjoy their time with Jensen camera-free had been repeated as part of the amazing prize package. It was presented as a chance not just to get to know Jensen Ackles but for him to get to know your life by stepping into it without any of the trappings of fame or fortune. There weren’t supposed to be cameras, photo ops, or flashy events, and in an attempt to ensure that the ten days were as close to Jared's "normal" as possible, he would be in charge of any and all spending he and his guest did while Jensen was staying with him, which meant a sizable daily allowance courtesy of CW Records. 

_Which answers the question of why I’m doing this_ , Jared thinks.

In all honesty, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that Jensen’s label went back on this particular promise as much as they could without breach of contract. Jensen needs all the good press they can get him.

Jared comforts himself in the knowledge that the pressure of being recorded will be mercifully brief: one interview at the start before meeting Jensen, one ‘special experience’ with details still to come, and a debrief at the end after Jensen leaves. The footage will be turned into a bonus featurette edited in between songs for the special Netflix is making out of Jensen’s last recorded concert.

He looks over at Genevieve and smirks. “What exactly am I supposed to say to these guys?”

“Chance of a lifetime, you still can’t believe it, never been more thrilled than when you got the call…” She shrugs. “You know anything about acting?”

Jared huffs with amusement, not sure how bad of a sign it is that he met this lady forty-five minutes ago and she’s already joking with him about what a horror show he’s getting himself into, but at least she’s distracting him from doubting whether he should be agreeing to it at all.

“Know anything about acting?” he asks incredulously. “You’re looking at Truman High’s understudy George Gibbs in my senior year’s production of _Our Town_.”

Genevieve gives him a light push toward his own couch, where the camera man is gesturing for Jared to sit, laughing as she says, “Well, there you go, hot shot. You’ve got this one in the bag.”

The interview takes maybe thirty minutes, five or six softball questions that Jared answers with as much pep as possible. Some he can give honest answers to, _How long have you been listening to Jensen Ackles’s music? What does it mean to you?_ , and he thinks that makes up for it if he’s a little more hesitant when they start asking how excited he is.

Rich, the guy directing the special they’re collecting footage for, has him do a few takes of those until Jared’s enthusiasm is sufficiently believable, and then the crew is wrapping up the cords and boxing the microphones cluttering Jared’s home.

“What’d you think?” Jared asks Genevieve after the director has called cut.

“So convincing! I think they shouldn’t have made you the understudy,” she replies. Jared smiles, but just as he’s starting to feel comfortable with the weight of the interview falling from his shoulders, Genevieve sighs. “Well, here goes nothing. Time for you to meet the boss.”

He nods and lets himself be repositioned by the entrance until Rich is satisfied with the angle he’s got. Outside, Jared knows, there’s another camera crew just waiting to capture the moment when he opens this door. Right on the front porch of _his_ house, Jensen Ackles—yes, _that_ Jensen Ackles—just did an interview all about how he feels preparing to meet his biggest fan. Which is Jared, apparently.

And now it’s actually going to happen. Sure, Jared knows what kind of guy Jensen Ackles is. He’s been on the internet in the last ten years. But there’s still a part of him, a confused thirteen year-old kid deep down inside him somewhere, that _is_ feeling butterflies. His hand is on the knob, and when he turns it, he’s going to learn if you can believe every sensationalist article you come across in gossip rags.

“They say they’re ready outside,” Rich yells to the room. “Quiet on set, please! We’re rolling.”

Jared takes a deep breath, gives the camera a shaky smile, and pulls. Immediately, light floods in from the too-hot Texas day outside, but it’s only a few moments before his eyes adjust to the sunlight and Jared is able to take in what’s standing directly in front of him.

Striking green eyes, the dusting of freckles over the bridge of a slightly crooked nose that Jared used to mourn for when magazines airbrushed them out, light stubble over a jaw Jared would gladly cut himself on. It’s _actually_ Jensen Ackles.

“Wow,” he says stupidly.

Jensen smiles up at him, tongue pressing the back of his teeth, picture perfect. _He was a model before he broke into music_ , Jared’s mind supplies, because apparently there’s still plenty of useless trivia about this guy crammed into his brain.

“You must be Jared,” he says warmly, holding his hand out. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Jared’s stomach swoops like he’s a goddamned teenager all over again. “I…you too.”

It doesn’t even occur to him that he should shake the guy’s hand until Jensen’s stupidly flawless eyebrow arches up and he angles his head down. And, okay, Jared’s not sure guys like him are allowed to touch Jensen Ackles, but he’s not gonna start a fight here.

Once he takes Jensen’s hand, Jensen tugs him in, giving Jared an easy, one-shoulder-pat hug.

“That’s a wrap,” Rich announces. “It was perfect. Real. We don’t need to do it again.”

Jared feels himself pushed back just as suddenly as he’d been pulled forward, and Jensen’s soft expression immediately changes to something disdainful. He steps in and looks around Jared’s living room, lip curling like there’s a bad smell in the air.

Then he turns to Genevieve and, as if Jared isn’t there, says, “You can’t really be expecting me to live here.” He barely glances at Jared before adding, “With _this_.”

Just like that, Jared remembers that he’s not a star struck tween anymore, and, oh yeah, Jensen Ackles is notoriously a _fucking asshole_.

* * *

“So what do you even do around here for fun?” Jensen asks.

He’s draped over the arm of Jared’s couch, body language and facial expression both broadcasting how bored he is, as if announcing it a thousand times wasn’t enough to get the point across. The film crew left only an hour ago, and Jared is already counting the minutes until this is over.

“This isn’t exactly the middle of nowhere,” Jared replies. “It’s a major city. We’ve got all the usual major city things.”

“Texas is Texas,” Jensen mutters unhappily before turning over onto his stomach. “I can’t believe I’m trapped here again.”

“Leave whenever you want,” Jared says, gesturing to the exit.

Calling Jensen’s bluff works. He looks to the door, then sighs and drops his head back on the couch cushion. “You think I’d be here if I had a choice?”

“No, but I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to give me a chance.”

“If your record label shipped you off to live with some stalker in the middle of nowhere, would you give it a chance?”

“Well, they shipped me you, so it’s not like you’re the only one who got a crummy deal here.”

Jensen lifts his head just enough to glare at Jared. “Some fan you are. Why'd you even enter the contest if you hate me so much?”

"I didn't. No one entered themselves. Contestants were nominated by someone who thought they knew the biggest Jensen Ackles fan in America. In my case, my pain-in-the-ass little sister is to thank for this." Jared scoffs. "Didn't you at least bother to learn how your own contest worked?"

Sinking deeper into the cushions, Jensen says, "I checked out around the time I told the execs I wasn't okay with this and they said, 'You're doing it anyway.'"

Jared moves to sit in one of the armchairs next to the couch and gives Jensen his brightest smile. He’s not going to sink to Jensen’s level. All he has to do is play host for ten days and at the end of it, he’ll be $50,000 richer. In the meantime, he won’t become an asshole just because Jensen is.

Still, a part of him wants to shake Megan for entering him without asking first. His sister meant well, he knows. Jared’s life has been one crappy thing after another for the last year and she thought this would give him a reason to smile. After all, there was a time when meeting Jensen Ackles was the highlight of Jared's entire existence, and when she saw the commercials saying his “biggest fan” could win a visit from the man himself, it’s only natural that all those months he wouldn’t shut up about it when they were kids came to mind. Ten days alone with no cameras or entourage, just the two of them getting to know each other, _would_ have been Jared’s wildest dream come true.

Of course, that was three bad albums, four stints in rehab, a cancelled world tour, and twelve years ago. Now, all Jensen Ackles is to Jared is the sell-out egomaniac currently throwing a temper tantrum on his couch.

He takes a deep breath so that he can keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Regardless of how either of us feels about it, you're here now. Why don’t you tell me what kind of things you enjoy? That way I can make a plan for the next ten days that we can both have fun with.”

Jensen sits up at that and meets Jared’s eyes. “You’ve got to have a place to let loose around here, right? It’s a city, after all.”

“Yeah, we have tons of live music venues and great local bands,” Jared says. “I figured we could check out some of those, though a lot of the shows this week are at bars. Should we avoid—?”

“I would _love_ to go to a bar,” Jensen interrupts. “Or a club. Somewhere we can pick up some girls, you know? You won’t even have to try if you’re with me.”

“I’m not, uh, really looking to—” Jared cuts his glance away and shrugs. “I’m gay.”

There’s a long silence, long enough that Jared looks back up just to see how Jensen is reacting. He immediately notices the way Jensen’s jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are cool when they meet Jared’s. “Of course you are.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Jared asks. Because he’s willing to put up with a lot here, but if he’s got a homophobe living in his house for the next week and a half, he’s damn well going to make it clear early that he’s not putting up with it.

Jensen gives Jared the most forced smile Jared thinks he’s ever seen and says, “I don’t care what you are. Just don’t try anything with me.”

He rolls his eyes. Straight guys always think they’re irresistible, and, okay, Jensen looks like Jensen, granted, but Jared would rather turn celibate than spend even a second longer in his presence than he already has to. “I’ll try to resist somehow.”

Jensen nods, then sits up on the couch. “You’ve gotta have hot friends, right? Chicks always flock to fa—gay guys.”

As much as it pains Jared to admit Jensen is right, he knows plenty of girls who will be happy to party with Jensen Ackles, regardless of how much of an asshole he is, just to say they did. Danneel, Vice President of the “We Love Jensen Ackles!” Club Jared started in junior high, will probably never forgive him if he doesn’t introduce them.

“If we go out, you gotta promise not to drink. And try not to be yourself around my friends.”

Jensen grins. “I’m never honest with women.”

* * *

Even Jensen can’t find much to complain about on a Saturday night in Austin. The third band of the show is halfway through their set, and Jared is surprised to find he’s having a half-decent time, even if the rock star currently slouching against the wall a few feet away is contributing very little to his enjoyment.

He glances over, checking in, like he has been whenever there’s a lull in a song and he remembers he’s basically here babysitting. Jensen is bathed in red light, same as the rest of the crowd packed into The White Horse, and Danneel is standing between them, laughing obnoxiously loud at every little thing Jensen says as if he’s actually clever. Her tight purple shirt is cut so low it almost shows her bellybutton, a fact that didn’t escape Jensen’s notice, judging by the way he smirked as soon as she met up with them.

It’s not like Jared doesn’t get it, but it’s still pretty disappointing to watch his friend play a bimbo just to get in the pants of someone who desperately does not need the ego boost.

At least the music is drowning out most of their flirting. Jared’s not really into the country scene this bar tends to cater to, but tonight the bands are more indie rock, and anyway, it felt like a smarter choice to bring Jensen here for live music than the other venues he and his friends tend to favor. Sure, it’s still a bar, and that’s not great, but at least they aren’t right in the thick of Dirty 6th.

“You know, the bassist is actually pretty decent,” Jared hears Jensen say to his right, and when he looks over, Jensen is now standing directly next to him. Danneel and her microscopic top are nowhere to be seen. “He’s way too good to be playing this dump.”

“Where’s—?” Jared starts to ask.

“Your friend?” Jensen laughs dismissively. “Stormed off. Took her tits with her, which is a damn shame.”

Jared frowns. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Jensen insists. “She asked if I wanted to go home with her. I told her I’d let her know if I don’t find anything better. Night is young, after all.”

“Unbelievable,” Jared mutters. “Can’t go two hours without pissing someone off, can you?”

“I’m much nicer when I’m high,” he jokes, and when Jared gives him a flat look, he adds, “What? I didn’t tell your friend I wouldn’t fuck her. She seemed more than desperate enough to wait a few hours for it.”

“She’s not desperate,” Jared tells him. “And you know damn well you weren’t gonna do any better.”

“I just wanted to listen to some music,” Jensen says. “Not leave the moment someone who could play finally got on stage. I mean, that bassist—”

“Forget the bassist!” Jared replies, getting his phone out. “You could have just said that you wanted to stay longer. Instead of treating her like a back-up plan.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m not interested in being married to your friend for the next ten days just because she tagged along on night one. I know a clinger when I see one.”

“You’re a grade A douchebag,” Jared tells him as he types out a text to check on Danneel.

“Exactly,” Jensen agrees. “So I really did her a favor by blowing her off, huh?”

“Or, here’s a crazy idea, just treat people better.” Jared turns his attention to Danneel’s reply instead of whatever Jensen responds with.

_I’m fine. In the bathroom. Think I’ll just go home._

Jared scowls at his phone and looks up at Jensen. “I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay. You stay right here, got it? Do not go _anywhere_.”

“Yes, mommy,” Jensen says as he brings his cup of ice water to his lips and takes a sip. “I’ll be a good little captive.”

Once he’s convinced that Jensen won’t be trying anything, Jared pushes his way through the crowd until he reaches the women’s room and texts Danneel to come out.

She emerges half a minute later with a jacket on over her shirt and a contrite look on her face. “I know, I know. You told me so.”

“He’s a dick, babe,” Jared says, wrapping an arm around her. “He wouldn’t have deserved you.”

“Ugh,” she agrees. “I’m just embarrassed that I acted like such a groupie all night.”

“Well, asshole or not, he is probably the hottest man alive,” Jared says sympathetically. “I’d be cheap and easy, too, if I thought I had a chance.”

Danneel gives him a light smack on the stomach. “I’m not _cheap_ ,” she insists, and Jared laughs at what she isn’t denying. She reaches up to pinch his cheek. “Besides, everyone knows _you’re_ the hottest man alive. He’s second place at best.”

“And you’re the prettiest liar I’ve ever met,” Jared jokes, ruffling her hair. “C’mon, listen to the rest of the set with me. I’ll buy you a drink. We can pretend he’s not even there.”

“Nah, I’m feeling pretty disillusioned. I think I’ll spend the rest of the night with the only men who will never let me down.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Give Ben & Jerry my best.”

Danneel laughs. “Have fun with your scumbag!”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me alone with him,” Jared whines as she pulls her purse onto her shoulder and starts to scan the crowd, obviously looking for the easiest path to the exit.

He watches her face change from calculating to confused and gets why as soon as he follows the line of her eyes and sees that half of the huge dancefloor has emptied out, not because people have left but because they’ve all packed over on the other side, trying to get closer to something in the middle of a huddle.

“Fuck,” Jared says, swiveling his head to the corner where he left Jensen. Of course the guy isn’t there anymore, despite his promises. Of course the chaos happening across the room is focused near the bar. “Shit.”

“Oh boy.” Danneel turns to face him. “You don’t think he would—?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I think he would do,” Jared replies.

Instead of leaving, Danneel follows him and Jared uses his height to shove his way to the center, despite all the angry people cursing at him and telling him to wait his turn.

Once he’s deep enough into the mob to see what’s causing it, all of his suspicions are confirmed. Jensen has removed his baseball cap and sunglasses, so _of course_ he’s been spotted. There’s a glass of amber liquid in his hand, and he has an arm around the bassist from the band that had been playing when Jared left to look for Danneel.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, grabbing Jensen’s wrist and trying to pull him away. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh, Jared, there you are,” Jensen answers, shaking him off. He grins, eyes a little glassy, and it’s clear this is far from the first drink he’s had. “Have you met Rob? Meet Rob. He’s the bassist. You know. From that band. What were you guys called again?”

“The Hammurabis,” says a short, balding British guy standing to Jensen’s left. Jared has seen this group play enough times to recognize that he’s the drummer. “We can give you our demo if you wa—”

“He’s gonna come on tour with me,” Jensen tells Jared, giving Rob a jovial slap on the back.

Rob, a mild-looking middle-aged man, seems utterly confused but very happily agrees, “Yeah, man. We’d love to.”

“Just you,” Jensen clarifies. He laughs as he looks at the rest of the band and takes another sip. “You guys are garbage.”

Jared watches all the musician’s faces fall, Rob included, as Jensen cheerfully finishes his drink. 

“We were listening to his last album in the car on the way over here,” Jared tells them, giving the drummer an apologetic smile. “He’s just confusing your stuff with his.”

A few of the people huddled near enough to hear the dig snicker, including the band. Jensen ignores it. He sets his empty glass down on the counter and says, “Alright, who’s buying the next one?”

Immediately, the mass of people around Jared starts yelling out offers and scrambling to be the one to buy Jensen Ackles a drink. Jared, furious at this point, takes Jensen’s wrist again and when Jensen tries to resist, he pulls with all his strength. Jensen probably wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against him sober, but in his current state, he stumbles forward, following as Jared drags him out of the club, ignoring the disappointed cries and pleas from all the other people gathered around.

“What the hell?” Jared yells as soon as they’re outside. “What are you thinking? _Are_ you thinking? You know you aren’t supposed to drink!”

Jensen smiles at him. “They were fans! They wanted to buy me a few rounds. Would’ve been rude to say no.”

“Oh, now he doesn’t want to be rude,” Danneel mutters from a few feet behind them.

“Sweetheart!” Jensen says, turning to walk backwards so he can face her. “You’re here, too! You still dying to suck my cock, or what? Night doesn’t have to be a total loss just because your friend doesn’t know how to have a good time.”

Danneel wrinkles her nose and tugs her jacket closed even more. “Keep dreaming, loser.”

“‘M not a loser. I’m a genius. You ever been called a genius? I have Grammys. What do you have, other than a nice pair?” Jensen is still not looking where he’s going, so he walks into a light post just as he says that and trips, hardly catching himself before hitting the floor.

Jared and Danneel share a look, and it’s clear that they both enjoyed the schadenfreude of Jensen’s timing.

“That’s by far the most awesome thing to happen tonight, so on that note, my car’s over there.” She hitches her thumb in the opposite direction from where Jared is walking and asks, “Are you gonna need help getting the genius back to your place?”

“I think I’ve got him,” Jared assures her. “Drive safe.”

“No worries on that front,” Danneel says, shaking her head pityingly at Jensen. “Remember? No drinking tonight. Solidarity with the alcoholic.”

Jared watches her go and sighs, catching Jensen’s biceps and helping pull him to his feet. He steadies him and then wraps an arm around Jensen's shoulder, starting the slow walk to his car. “Seriously, do you have any idea how badly you fucked up?”

“Was just a few drinks,” Jensen says. “They offered. Figured one drink wasn’t gonna...”

“One drink?” Jared grits his teeth, pissed off because even as he makes the attempt, he knows trying to have a rational conversation with this guy is going to be a waste of his energy. “I left you alone for like ten minutes tops. How the hell did you manage to get this messed up?”

“I drink fast and I got a lot of fans,” Jensen tells him, turning as they reach the car to face him with a sloppy grin. “Such generous fans. Best fans in the whole world." He reaches out and taps Jared's cheeks condescendingly. "Except you. You’re kind of lousy at it.”

“This lousy fan saved your ass just now.” Jared pours him into the passenger side and watches Jensen strap in his seatbelt, like a little kid who can’t be trusted to do it on his own. He rounds the car and gets in himself, slamming the door hard enough to make Jensen jump in his seat. “If this gets out—you weren’t exactly a smooth criminal back there. It’s probably going to be all over the internet tomorrow that you were spotted here. Someone must have a picture of you with a drink in your hand. That’s the ballgame. They’re going to call this whole thing off.”

He waits for a response and, when nothing comes, looks over to see that Jensen is already either passed out or completely lost to him, with his face pressed to the window. He huffs, starts the car, and accepts that there’s nothing much else he can do except get Jensen home and deal with this in the morning.

When they pull up to his house, Jared shakes Jensen awake. Jensen is so out of it that Jared has to drag him to his feet, and he takes a long moment to adjust before he finally starts to react, letting his head lull onto Jared’s shoulder as he takes uneven steps.

“There’s no way you drank enough to be this fucked up,” Jared observes. “Not in the time I was gone, and not with the tolerance you’ve probably got.”

“Just a few drinks,” Jensen mumbles, turning his face so that his nose is tucked right up against Jared's neck. “To take…so it would be…easier.”

“I think someone drugged you,” Jared says, trying to pull away, but Jensen brings a hand up and curls it in Jared's shirt, holding on tight. He's touchy when he's high. Of course he is. “It’s 2020. Don’t famous people know better than to accept drinks from random people at bars yet?”

“Yeah, unless…” Jensen starts laughing as Jared marches him to the door. He leans Jensen, who’s still giggling vapidly, against the wall so he can focus on getting his keys into the lock to let them both in.

When he turns to collect Jensen, he lets his annoyance shine through in his voice. “What? What the hell’s so funny?”

“Unless I took the drink hoping someone drugged it.” Jensen shrugs and rolls along the wall until he’s grinning at Jared. “I feel great.”

“You could have been kidnapped! Or killed. Or—”

“You must be fun at parties,” Jensen tells him, patting him on the shoulder dismissively as he stumbles into the house.

“I don’t know why I care,” Jared says, shutting the door behind him and rounding on Jensen. “You won’t be my problem anymore after tomorrow morning. So just don’t choke on your puke before then.”

He tries to shove past Jensen, but Jensen catches him by the sleeve and tugs him back. He looks surprisingly aware now when he finds Jared’s eyes, though his words are still slow and slurred. “What do you mean I won’t be your problem after tomorrow?”

“I’m calling your people and having them come get you,” Jared replies. “You can’t actually think I was planning to do another nine days of this, did you?”

Jensen shakes his head. “You can’t do that.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Jared brushes Jensen’s hands off. “You knew the rules and you didn’t even bother to try to follow them. You didn’t give this a chance, so why should I give you—?”

“Because it’s my last strike,” Jensen says, his voice wet from the alcohol, but also something else, and when Jared looks at him, his eyes are wide and pleading. “This was my last strike. If I blow this, my label will drop me. No one else is gonna sign me as a washed-up drug addict with the way my last tour sold. I'll be nothing.”

"Maybe it's time for that," Jared suggests, crushed to have to say it. 

He realizes right then that he wasn't anywhere near as disconnected from this man and his music as he's been telling himself for years. Deep down, Jared truly wanted this experience to redeem the hero that gave him certainty when he was a confused kid. So much so that even with the nasty comments and the bad attitude and everything Jensen has done since he arrived, it's taken until this moment right here for Jared to give up on him. Jensen can't pleasantly surprise Jared; Jensen can't even hold himself up. A decade and a half ago, Jared picked a loser, so maybe it's no surprise he grew up to be a loser himself. 

"You're not doing anyone any favors by staying in the spotlight," Jared tells him. "You're just breaking your fans' hearts."

Jensen grabs Jared's hips and uses them to stabilize his steps as he moves closer, giving him a loopy smile before drawing into Jared's space again. Still high, still touchy. Check and check. Nothing Jared is saying is even registering. "What do you want from me? I'll do anything."

“You won’t,” says Jared, pushing Jensen back until he's standing arm's length away, but holding his shoulders so he doesn't fall. “All you had to do was stay sober. That’s what your label told you and that’s what I told you and you honestly should have known without being told. I’m sorry, man. The only one who screwed this up for you is you.”

“What about for you?” Jensen tries.

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Don’t let me have ruined this for you,” Jensen reasons.

He huffs a laugh at that. “You really think having you here is some kind of treat for me? No thanks, buddy.”

“I’m high,” Jensen says, wiping his hand over his face, and Jared can see the effort he’s making to focus. “I’m not stupid. I know you don’t give a shit about me. But you agreed to do this for something, right?”

Jared hesitates. “You come with a $5,000 per diem. I get to keep whatever we don’t spend.”

Jensen whistles. “Five grand. Ten days. That’s a lot of money, Jared. Think of what you could do with all that.”

“I already have. I made plans for that money. It was gonna cover my old student loan debt, pay for me to go back to school, maybe even have a little leftover to work on the house.”

Flicking the pastel pink curtain next to him, Jensen snorts. “God knows the place needs it. This looks like where old ladies come to die.”

The comment makes Jared physically recoil. He takes a few moments for the pain to pass, so Jensen only gets his anger, not his grief. “But I’m not desperate enough for it to put up with you treating me, my friends, and my home like shit. Fag or not, I still have my dignity.”

“I never called you that,” Jensen says.

“You wanted to,” Jared replies.

Jensen stares at him for a long time, at least having the decency not to lie to him about it. Out of nowhere, he smiles so bright there might as well be a bulb over his head. Jared isn't sure what there is to grin about, and Jensen's excitement as he begins to share his idea is borderline hysterical. It's obvious he thinks he's figured out how to fix the whole situation.

"You need money? I may not have access right now, but I have plenty of money. I'll give you another fifty Gs to let me try again. Even if I fuck it up on day three and you only get three days' worth from the label, you get $50,000 from me, no strings attached, if you promise not to rat on me for this."

"And the next time you'll offer another fifty, right?" Jared asks furiously. "You can't just throw money at every problem to make it go away. That's how you got like this."

“What's it to you if I don't learn my lesson? Don't be stupid. You're not really gonna throw away $100,000 just to show me. I'm no one to you, right?" Jensen holds his hands up in supplication. "Take the money and give me another chance. I’ll behave this time, and you'll come out of it better off than you started. What do I have to do to convince you?”

“Nothing you can actually follow through on,” Jared tells him. “Respect me. Respect the fact that I welcomed you in. Respect yourself enough to lay off the drinks and definitely the drugs. Maybe even not be a total asshole.”

“I can do all that,” Jensen promises. He staggers forward, catching himself on Jared again and looking up at him with the kind of open desperation in his face that Jared has seen in hunted animals. “Please. You don’t know. You don’t know what I’ve done so I could make music. How much I’ve…Please. It’s all I have now. They’ll take it from me if I blow this.”

It’s almost painful to see how pathetic he is. Vain and shallow and petty, begging just to stay relevant. It's impossible— _impossible_ —to believe that this is the same man who had the passion and depth to write the albums that shepherded Jared to adulthood. It must have been someone else. Some ghostwriter wearing Jensen's beauty as a mask to get his message out to a wider audience; Cyrano de Bergerac with a better bassline. Not this guy. No way could it have been this guy.

Jared sighs. “I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll decide tomorrow morning. Right now, I just want to go to sleep. You need to sober up, anyway.”

* * *

Despite how exhausted he is from the long and discouraging day, Jared waits in the living room until the noises from Jensen's room have quieted before turning in. He hates feeling like a jailer but he's not willing to risk Jensen having any more stupid ideas. All he needs is to wake up tomorrow to see that, once again, Jensen took off to cause trouble the moment Jared looked away.

As soon as his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jared instantly feels lighter, relieved to be alone and in his own space. He sits down at the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands, doing nothing but breathing until he's somewhat relaxed. It's the first time since he moved out of the smaller bedroom that is now temporarily Jensen's and into the master that the room actually feels _his_.

There's a guilty pang at having that thought, the part of him that wakes up every morning convinced this is still his aunt's room and he's just a misbehaving little kid sneaking in to poke around at her jewelry collection. Right now, those thoughts are easy to ignore. He needs a reprieve from his guest and all the trouble that moved in with him, and he wants to believe Dee would be glad he's got this sanctuary.

Once he's collected himself enough to think clearly, Jared glances longingly toward the end of the bed where his pillow seems to be calling for him, but he shakes his head and crosses the room, sitting at the small corner desk and powering up his laptop instead. As tired as he is, he knows he won't be able to sleep until he's worked out just how bad things are going to be.

The budget spreadsheet is only one click away on his desktop once he's logged in. It gets good use. Jared sighs as soon as it loads and he sees the bright blue numbers he'd keyed in for the next ten days. Then he begins on the unpleasant task of deleting them.

Five thousand dollars. That's all he'll end up getting from this. Maybe the label will throw him some money for however long he has to put up with Jensen tomorrow before they come collect him, but even if they gave him the full per diem, it'll only add up to ten. There's a long list of projects and expenses in the opposite column that don't shift as Jared brings his revenue down from fifty grand to a tenth of that, and it only takes three days for half of his spreadsheet to start turning red as the expenses overtake the revenue.

It's not a question of which projects to cut but of which one or two he can keep. Kill one of his smaller loans and he can maybe get new coat of paint for the living room out of what's left after that. Not enough to go debt free, not enough to renovate, certainly not enough to go back to school. Not enough to change anything.

Jared is doing fine, that's what he reminds himself. He's lucky. He has a home that he loves, despite its dated décor. He has the money he inherited, and that's been enough to keep him fed and on top of his bills. It won't run out for a few months. He can get by with modest spending and the deal hunting he learned from his aunt. Doing exactly what he's been doing since Dee passed, he'll keep right on surviving, no problem.

Just enough to live off, not going anywhere from here. Stuck. Jared starts the thought as reassurance, but by the time he's finished forming it, he's suffocating. He had briefly dared to look toward the future. For the first time in years, he was going to start moving again.

His anger and disenchantment with Jensen flare up even stronger than they have all day, resentful because all the guy had to do was be somewhat bearable for ten days and he couldn't even keep it together for one.

Jared's finger hesitates over his list of ideas for how to spend the prize money, unable to force himself to press delete once he's highlighted them. There's just too much there, too many hopes represented to stomach squashing them all with one button tap. $50,000 wasn't going to be enough to do all of it, Jared was still going to have to make some choices, but it would have gone a long way.

That's when Jensen's voice seems to creep in at the back of his mind, whispering that $100,000 would be enough. More than enough. Jared could get his whole damn life unstuck with that kind of money.

He shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts, because it's not worth it. No amount of money can replace the relief he's going to feel when Jensen's gone. Jared would never have agreed to this at all if he had known what it would feel like to watch someone who once meant so much to him drop so low. He can't repeat today nine more times. 

Then again, he wouldn't have to. Jensen could and probably will screw up tomorrow night and Jared would still have earned the $50,000 just for giving him a second chance. There's a big difference between $5,000 and $60,000.

Biting his lip, Jared begins to type the per diem back into each line he'd deleted it from, adding a row at the bottom for the bribe Jensen offered. As soon as he hits enter, the entire right half of his spreadsheet lights up green.

Debts paid down. The credits he needs in order to finish his degree covered. The house redone from top to bottom, becoming a place Jared can feel at ease and not see the ghost of his aunt in every plastic-wrapped piece of furniture. He can envision it all so clearly, and he wants it with a sense of ambition that he hasn't possessed for years.

All it would take to make his life better forever is getting through nine more miserable days. A drop in the bucket compared to the number of tough days he's lived through this year, and no unpleasantness Jensen can create could rival the pain of Jared's recent losses. He may not have a lot of skills, but if what it'll take to earn this money is thick skin, Jared has already had to grow some.

He opens a blank document and begins making a new plan: everything he'll need to do and get Jensen to do in order to make this work.


	2. Day Two

By the time Jensen crawls out of bed and joins the living, Jared is already nearly done cooking breakfast. He watches as the man he idolized throughout his entire teenage life staggers into the kitchen, drops into the first chair he reaches, and leans over the table with his hand cradling his head.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Jared asks cheerfully, louder than he really needs to.

Jensen groans, which makes Jared laugh a little. He’s not a mean-spirited person usually, but Jensen had this one coming big time.

“Coffee,” Jensen says weakly. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

“I don’t drink caffeine,” Jared says, taking a sip from his own mug of coffee. “I believe energy should only come from within.”

Jensen lifts his head, a look of distress on his face like nothing Jared has ever seen, and it takes nearly half a minute of staring at Jared and at the coffee in his hand, his mouth gaping open stupidly and Jared can practically see the gears in his head turning, before he figures it out. “You’re fucking with me.”

“See,” Jared says, turning to grab a mug from the cabinet so he can pour Jensen a cup. “I’m plenty of fun.”

“Did I say you weren’t fun?” Jensen asks. He waits a beat before adding, “I’m sure I meant it. I just don’t remember saying it.”

“Yeah.” Jared sets the cup down in front of his guest. He gestures to the sugar and cream on the counter, offering them to Jensen nonverbally, but Jensen holds a hand up, shaking his head before taking a sip of it black. “You said a lot last night you might not remember.”

“I remember…” Jensen licks the coffee off his lips and cuts his eyes away from Jared. “So what did you decide? Are you gonna ask Genevieve to pick me up or what?”

Jared watches Jensen fidget, willing to admit to himself that he leaves Jensen squirming longer than he needs to. It’s interesting, the way Jensen is trying so hard to look like he doesn’t care as much as Jared knows he does. That moment last night, when Jensen was raw and begging, was real. Jensen may have been out of it, but it was easy to see how much he meant it. What Jared says next is going to determine everything for him. 

He can’t deny there’s a bit of satisfaction in the power he holds right now. For someone like Jared, who most people would probably rightly label a loser, to suddenly control the fate of someone with so much influence and fame. Might as well stop and smell the roses.

Finally he says, “You need to call your sponsor.”

“What?” Jensen asks, head snapping up to catch Jared’s eyes. “But are you going to—?”

“I’m not going to call the label unless I think what you need is to be thrown back into rehab. And if you convince me that you can keep your act together, at least for the next nine days, then I’m willing to put up with you.” He sees Jensen’s face change as he begins to smile, and Jared crosses his arms over his chest. “To be clear, I am not your superfan. I am not your enabler. I need the money. You need me to vouch for you. And this was your one and only get out of jail free card.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Jensen promises. “Whatever it takes. You name it.”

Not being a saint, Jared’s brain plays out a few porn scenarios before he manages to rein his thoughts back in. “I want you to call your sponsor. You have one, right?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “He’s a good guy.”

“I hope so for your sake. Because you’re gonna ask him to drop what he’s doing and fly here. Today.”

“Today?” Jensen asks. “A phone call won’t suffice?”

“I need to talk to someone who knows you and knows your situation, after they’ve seen you today and heard what you did last night. I need to get a real opinion on whether I’m doing the right thing or not. So, unless you have a shrink or some other qualified professional I can talk to, it’s your sponsor, in my living room before dark or it’s the label.”

Jensen rubs his face with his hand and sighs. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You have a plane, I’m sure. Have it pick him up.” Jared gives Jensen a bitchy smile. “If you’re as darling to your friends as you were to mine, I’m sure he’ll be happy to drop everything to help you out.”

“You’re just hoping I fail, aren’t you?” Jensen asks.

Jared rolls his eyes. “I’m not your enemy, Jensen. Far as I can tell, you are.”

Jensen makes a sour face at that, but instead of saying anything snarky, he just brings his coffee to his lips for a long sip. Maybe he’s learning.

When he sets his drink down, Jensen reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and gets his phone out. Jared watches quietly as Jensen types out a text and presses send.

“There,” he says, looking up once he’s finished. “I texted Misha. What do you want me to do until he replies?”

Jared tries to look friendly. “How’s breakfast sound? I made tacos.”

“Tacos are not a breakfast food,” Jensen says sourly. “No matter how much egg you put in them.”

“They are in Texas,” Jared tells him, setting a plate down in front of Jensen. “And unless your busted ass plans to make something yourself, this is what there is for eating. Go on. It’ll cure the hangover if you’re lucky.”

“I wish you’d at least let me forget we’re in Texas,” Jensen grumbles, but he picks up one of the tacos on his plate and bites into it. Jared watches his face as he chews, more than a little smug that some of the prissiness seems to evaporate as Jensen swallows and immediately takes another, bigger bite. His mouth is still full when he asks, “Is that chorizo? This actually isn’t half bad.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything again as he finishes his two tacos, and Jared delights in the silence, enjoying his own breakfast at a much more leisurely pace. 

Somewhere around the time Jared is polishing off the last of his coffee, Jensen’s phone buzzes. They both stare at it for a long moment, neither moving, until Jared raises an eyebrow in question. “Are you gonna…?”

Jensen takes a deep breath as he grabs his phone, eyes scanning over whatever the response from his sponsor says a few times before he hands it to Jared to read.

* * *

Misha arrives in the early afternoon. Jared isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but the guy he opens his door to definitely isn’t it. Jared thought someone like Jensen would have a grizzled, leather-clad badass as his sponsor, or at least someone considerably older than him. The man standing on his porch is hardly middle-aged, and he looks like an accountant. A kind of hot accountant, but still. An accountant.

“Are you Misha?” Jared asks, even though he knows it must be. He isn’t exactly expecting any other strangers today.

“Oh, I know this part,” Misha says, holding his hand out. As Jared shakes it, Misha rattles off an introduction, “Hello, my name is Misha Collins, and I’m an alcoholic. It has been twelve years and two months since my last drink.”

“Uh, congratulations,” Jared replies, opening the door wider. “We’re not really having a meeting here. Do you want to come in?”

“Where is he?” Misha asks mildly. “I’m going to kill him.”

From the couch, where Jensen has been moping and watching reruns of _Catfish_ for the last three hours, a hand raises. “Yo.”

“‘Yo?’” Misha echoes. “That’s what you have to say? ‘Yo?’”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jensen sits up, switching off the TV. “Hi, my name is six-time Grammy Award winning artist Jensen Ackles. I’m trapped in a bullshit state with some guy I don’t know because my record label hates me. It’s been about twelve hours and two minutes since my last drink. That’s my bad.”

“My daughter has a soccer tournament today,” Misha tells him, pushing Jensen’s feet off the couch and forcing him to sit up so there's room for them both. “In another state. All you have to say for yourself is ‘yo’ and ‘my bad’?”

“And you’re welcome, I guess,” Jensen answers, smirking. “For getting you out of the soccer game.”

Misha slaps Jensen lightly on the back of his head, and Jared decides he approves of this guy.

“I’ll let you two talk,” he says. “You can find me out on the back patio when you need me.”

* * *

It feels like Jared gets a long stretch of peace before Misha joins him outside. He’s sitting on the deck with a book, so he has to check his watch to see how much time has actually passed. Apparently, Misha and Jensen talked for an hour and a half, which is one hour and twenty-five minutes longer than Jared can ever imagine sustaining a conversation with Jensen.

“You must need a drink,” Jared says. Then he realizes who he said that to and has to resist the urge to slap himself. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“Jensen does tend to have that effect,” Misha replies, taking the empty chair next to him. “Lucky for me, I have excellent coping strategies.”

“To cope with the cravings, or with Jensen?” Jared asks, bending a page of his book to mark his place and setting it on the patio table. “Because if the latter, I’ll take any tips you’ve got.”

Misha laughs as he folds his hands on the glass surface. “Jensen tells me he’s been unpleasant since he arrived.”

“At least he’s not a liar,” Jared replies. He sits up straighter, suddenly alert. “Should he be alone in there? I got rid of all the alcohol in the house. It was in one of the contracts I signed. But he’s not, like, about to make a run for it, is he?”

“I don’t think he’s a flight risk, no.” Misha shakes his head. “We had a very productive conversation. I’m not _his_ therapist, but I am _a_ therapist.”

“I don’t imagine you want to stay over the next nine days?”

Misha gives him an apologetic look. “If I’m on a plane in the next hour, I might make the end of my kid’s game. Or, more importantly, the post-game ice cream.”

“Shit, that _is_ important,” Jared jokes.

“I understand why you’re doubting this arrangement,” Misha says, drumming his fingers on the table as he abruptly steers the conversation away from joking and into more serious territory. “Frankly, the whole thing is absurd to me. Several lawsuits waiting to happen.”

Jared nods. “That’s what I thought when they called me to negotiate the terms, but I wasn’t about to turn down the money.”

“Nonetheless, this is the solution that was settled on to address some of the unique problems Jensen’s public image has posed for his label in the recent past. So this is what we have to work with.”

“We can still call it off,” Jared points out. “If that’s what you think is best for him.”

“I don’t want to say it is,” Misha answers after a long period of consideration. “It’s honestly very difficult to guess what will or will not be best for Jensen. But my sense is that he can’t handle another rejection, and at this point there’s no way to end his stay here without him seeing it as that.” 

“Believe me,” Jared says. “He won’t care if I reject him. He respects me about as much as the grackles that shit on my windshield every morning.”

“If he’s made you feel that way, it’s probably a sign he likes you. He tends to be hardest on those who try to help him.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I wish he liked me less,” Jared mutters. He throws his hands up in frustration. “Shouldn’t he go back to rehab? Like, immediately? He relapsed _last night_.”

“Jensen has done rehab. In the best clinics in the world. If rehab was going to help him, last night’s scene wouldn’t have happened. All the traditional fixes have had lackluster results at best with Jensen, which may be why the label decided to try such an extreme test. It’s not surprising that he’s failing it considering they tossed him into a very unpredictable situation at a time when he's already suffering from a lack of stability.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Jared asks. “Spend the next week and a half terrified America’s favorite gossip topic is going to destroy his entire life on my watch? I don’t know how to help him. I’m just a guy.”

Misha watches Jared for a long moment, biting his cheek as he considers something, and then he starts talking like the Dalai freaking Lama, “Unless you believe that your differences are irreconcilable, I think just letting him stay is the most helpful thing you can do. He’s out of the spotlight, which could be good. If nothing else, it at least leaves his future open. This might be Jensen’s only path to continue making music professionally. Personally, I believe that his sobriety, if it’s ever going to happen for real, will need to be reached through creative healing. Knowing him, he’ll spend more time drinking and feeling sorry for himself than making music if he believes his career is dead.”

“I’m not just trying to be snarky here, but, uh…” Jared shrugs. “Isn’t that what he’s already been doing? He hasn’t had a writing credit on one of his own albums since _Nihilism_ , and that was half a decade ago.”

“And he said you aren’t really a fan,” Misha replies, squinting at Jared. “I wouldn’t have known that off the top of my head.”

“I _was_ a fan,” Jared clarifies. “That was also the last time he released something halfway decent. Then he started trashing hotel rooms and going on binges and left the songwriting to studio hacks more interested in selling his pretty face than making good music.” Jared sighs. “Whatever, his career is not my problem. Him being hungover in my living room is my problem.”

“What you have to understand about people like Jensen—people like me—is that addiction often starts with something else. Some issue that isn’t being dealt with and isn’t going away. Drugs or alcohol can be very attractive in situations like that.”

A little ashamed, Jared finds his mind returning to the days after Dee died, when Stephen had just left, and how long he had held onto leftover bottles of prescriptions before he finally tossed them. Jared’s not an addict. He never has been, and he wants that to make him different from Jensen somehow, but he’s lying to himself most days when he pretends the choice was easy. He understands the temptation to try an escape, any escape, from grief. He’s just not sure what someone like Jensen has to grieve.

Oblivious to the painful memories flashing through Jared’s mind, Misha shares his own, “When I started using, I was dealing with a loss. I wanted to numb it, and I thought when the mourning period was over it would be easy to stop. Of course, I was wrong. By then I was hooked, but I did at least go in with an exit strategy.”

Jared nods. What Misha is describing makes more sense to him than he’ll say out loud. Starting is easy, stopping is much harder—that all checks out. He’s not without compassion. What unsettled him so much about Jensen’s slip last night is how calculating he’d been and how he’d flaunted it, seemingly without regret.

“Jensen doesn’t have one of those,” Jared says. “He’d be perfectly content continuing on like this forever.”

“You're wrong,” Misha replies, and it’s the first time the guy doesn’t sound completely Zen since he and Jared started talking. He takes a deep breath, which seems to re-center him. “Maybe you’re right that he doesn’t plan on stopping, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to. His using is less optimistic than my drinking was. It’s a symptom of a larger problem that he’s not trying to numb or wait out, because he doesn’t think it can get better.”

“What is it?” Jared asks. “What could someone so successful and adored possibly have hanging over them that they couldn’t handle in some other way?”

“I won’t pretend I completely understand. I know there’s plenty he still hasn’t told me.” Misha frowns. “One of the most challenging things about Jensen is that despite his attention seeking, he’s actually a very private person. He doesn’t want people to know him, and I can only help so much at that point. Whatever it is, he’s not going to choose to do what’s right for himself until he’s moved past it.”

“I want to believe there’s more to him than what I saw yesterday,” Jared says. “I really do. But from what I can tell, he wanted to be noticed. He wanted to be flattered. And he wanted to be high. He’s a cliché.”

Misha tilts his head in confusion, as if Jared’s reasoning is completely off base. “I think he would like for that to be true. Jensen is more than the rock star stereotype he clings to—although I would argue that stereotype stems from people in similar circumstances addressing problems in the same fashion. The noise, the constant partying, the stimulants…he’s outrunning his problems, and he can’t keep that pace indefinitely. He’s exhausted, but he thinks if he pauses to catch his breath, it’ll swallow him.”

“And yet, you don’t think he’s a lost cause,” Jared guesses. “No one flies halfway across the country on a moment’s notice to help someone they think is a lost cause.”

“Jensen is a…difficult cause,” Misha says judiciously. “I’m not sure I believe in lost ones. If I did, I still wouldn’t put Jensen in that category.”

Jared can’t help smiling at that, even if his own faith in Jensen is nowhere near Misha’s. There are things that play on a loop in his head when he’s lying awake, staring at the ceiling of what used to be and still should be his aunt’s room, because he can’t sleep these days in all the newfound quiet. _Lost cause_ features prominently. Stephen had told him he was one when he decided Jared would drag them both down if he stayed. Unemployed, uneducated, and just too sad to be around. 

Misha’s refusal to believe in lost causes is a boon, because that would mean the same thing for him that it would for Jensen. Things can be good again someday, even for burn out musicians and boys like Jared, someone so far adrift he doesn’t even know anymore what path he strayed from.

“I can see why Jensen chose you.” Jared leans back in his chair. “You must be a saint to be able to find hope for someone like him.”

“Far from it,” says Misha. “I did a lot more damage to the people I loved when I was at the height of my addiction. Jensen only hurts himself. I think it’s why he treats people the way he does. He’s not a bad person, but he pushes. Even those of us closest to him don’t get very close. I believe it stems from a conviction that he isn’t going to get better, and a desire not to cause anyone harm if he stays on this path. In some incredibly messed up way, it’s noble.”

Jared thinks about that, the fucked up logic of it, and concedes, “I guess the constant scrutiny must be hard to hold up to. And I’m sure once you’ve started, it’s hard to avoid temptation in his line of work, but he could make more of an effort.”

“He has. I understand that it doesn’t appear that way. But he was actually doing quite well until…”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” Jared crosses his arms over his chest. “I watched him like a hawk last night. He managed to completely fall off the wagon in the five minutes I wasn’t there. Am I supposed to keep tabs on him 24/7 for ten days? Should I sleep with one eye open? He told me he could handle going to a bar, the damn label told me he was fine, too, when they dropped him on me. Maybe if someone had been honest about the situation—”

“Calm down,” Misha says, and normally that would piss Jared off more, but Misha is so chill that it just feels melodramatic to stay keyed up. “I didn’t mean it was your fault. This situation is proving to be trying for Jensen and was before he arrived. He sees this as a commentary on his worth. He’s worried about his career. And yes, to some degree, it does seem to be aggravated by his return to Texas, and he is taking that out on you more than is warranted. I understand why you’re so frustrated. For you, he just showed up this hostile. For him, this has been building since the PR firm his label brought in to do damage control had the idea.”

Jared gives Misha a sideways smirk. “If they had any brains, they would have just hired you to follow him around explaining all his actions.”

“What, and risk exposing that Jensen Ackles isn’t really a total prick?” Misha leans in as if he’s sharing a secret. “He would never forgive me for tarnishing his carefully cultivated public persona.”

Jared laughs lightly as he rubs his eyes and drops his hand. “Alright. So what’s the call here? You want me to give him another shot? What can I do to keep him from screwing up again? No more bars is a given.”

Misha smiles warmly. “I think you’re doing a very big thing by allowing him to make up for what he did last night. At this point, I do feel that the impetus is on him. There’s only so much you and I can do to manage his addiction. The bulk of that work has to be his choice.”

“I was hoping for someone less philosophical,” Jared admits.

“He was hoping for someone more punk, so you can imagine his disappointment.” Misha grins as he stands up. “You have my permission to bond over what a letdown I am.”

Jared follows him to his feet and leads the way back, opening the door as he says, “I’ll keep that in mind. He and I don’t exactly have a lot to talk about.”

When they reenter the house, Jared is relieved to see that Jensen is just where they left him, sitting on the couch. Instead of staring listlessly at garbage TV like he had been all morning, Jensen is sitting in silence now, maybe going over whatever he and Misha discussed, maybe just waiting to find out what Jared decides. He turns as soon as he hears the door, which is the first tell of how nervous he actually is.

What strikes Jared the most is Jensen’s rattled expression. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising to realize that he and Misha actually had an intense conversation, but nothing in Jared’s experience really prepared him for the possibility that Jensen could take things seriously. 

“So what’ll it be?” he asks, and Jared watches as Jensen fights himself to disguise the concern in his voice and the near panic in his eyes. “Are you returning me to the pound or what?”

Misha exchanges an unimpressed look with Jared, and then he turns back to Jensen. “I believe you had something else you wanted to say to your host.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Sorry for how I behaved last night. It won’t happen again.”

“Gee, I’m overcome by that display of genuine emotion,” Jared deadpans. “Skip the forced apology. I don’t need it.” He gestures to Misha. “Just don’t let this guy down. Because for whatever reason, he saved your ass today.”

Jared watches Jensen’s eyes bounce from Jared to Misha and then back to Jared again. “Seriously? You’re not kicking me out?”

“I mean, not yet,” Jared replies. “We’ll see how long you make it.” He shifts his focus to Misha. “I know you’ve got places to be, but you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, if you’d like. I could grill up some steaks.”

“That’s very generous, but my extremely understanding wife’s limits have been tested enough today, and she’s way past being impressed by how famous Jensen is.”

Jared laughs, but Jensen springs to his feet, and Jared can’t miss how eager he suddenly looks to convince Misha. “Come on, she’ll understand. You must be hungry. Don’t—don’t leave yet.”

“You’ll be fine,” Misha assures him. He gives his friend a long look over before tugging him in for a supportive hug. Jensen accepts it for only a few seconds before he starts pushing Misha away, and Misha catches him by one shoulder, forcing Jensen to meet his eyes as he says, “And if you’re feeling tempted, could you try calling me _before_ you start drinking?”

Jensen gives him a sour nod and watches as Misha lets himself out, waving to the driver who’d been waiting to escort him back to the private jet Jensen flew him in on. When the door closes behind him, he barely glances at Jared before casting his eyes back to the floor.

“If you’re hungry, I can start cooking,” Jared says awkwardly.

“It’s your house, man. Don’t change your plans on my account,” Jensen replies. “I’ll be in my room.”

Jared watches his hasty retreat down the hallway, and he can’t help laughing, thinking how similar Jensen’s behavior is to that of a moody teenager.

Although it's still light out when Misha leaves, Jensen hardly remerges all night. Aside from crossing the hall to the bathroom and back a few times, he's locked in, with the muffled sounds of whirring and feet pounding on a treadmill conveyor belt the only proof of life Jared has. He even takes the plate of food Jared makes him into the room, leaving it on the floor outside the door when he's done with it, like he expects housekeeping to whisk it away. 

It hasn’t escaped Jared's notice how far Jensen goes to avoid ever being alone with him. The eagerness to keep Misha around probably had less to do with the sense of stability he lends to Jensen’s sobriety than with Jensen feeling like he needs a buffer between them. As if Jared’s going to try to jump him any moment they’re alone just because he’s gay, when _Jensen_ ’s the one with the worldwide reputation for hitting on people after they’ve already turned him down. It’s probably been so long since Jensen flirted with decency that he’s forgotten not everyone is scum.

“Your dick would have to taste like brisket to make me want to get anywhere near it,” Jared whispers at Jensen’s closed door as he retrieves the plate and carries it to the kitchen sink.

He's too drained of energy from being around Jensen all day to do much more than melt into his couch for the rest of the night, turning the volume up on the TV to drown out hours upon hours of Jensen running in place.


	3. Day Three

Jared wakes up the next morning to his phone blaring the Animaniacs song his sister programmed into it as her ringtone last Thanksgiving. If she was looking for something impossible to sleep through, she hit gold. Jared reaches out, fumbling over the rest of the things on his nightstand until he finds it, and immediately hits the button to answer the call, only because he knows she’ll just keep calling if he ignores it.

“What do you want?” he grumbles. “It’s early.”

“It’s like nine in the morning,” his sister replies, sounding chipper on the other end. “The whole world is already awake.”

“Well, unemployed losers sleep until noon,” Jared complains.

“Not the ones who have superstars living in their houses!” she replies, obviously severely disappointed in Jared. “Don’t tell me you’re not already out and about, showing him the town.”

“Rock stars sleep in, too. It’s like the number one career choice for people who want to sleep during the day,” Jared says, sitting up in bed. “Aside from being a vampire, but that’s not really a job. Although, come to think of it, have you ever heard of a broke vampire? There’s gotta be some kind of welfare system in place as soon as you get turned, right? Or like a starter pack that comes with a creepy castle and swishy cape?”

“I think they just go to the blood bank,” Meg says, the excitement in her voice clear. “Get it? Blood bank? Fuck, that’s good!”

“Are you done congratulating yourself yet?” Jared asks flatly.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it yourself. Sucks to suck.” She waits for a beat and when Jared doesn’t laugh she adds, “Sucks? Because vampire?”

“Let me know when you take this show on the road, so I can be sure to avoid it,” says Jared, scrubbing a hand over his face to try to wake himself up. “Now what the hell do you want?”

“I was just checking in!” she replies. “Eager to hear what fun you and the ol’ celebrity crush were getting up to, though apparently the answer is ‘none whatsoever.’”

Jared lowers the phone and listens intently for the distant hum of the treadmill, letting out a relieved breath when he doesn't hear it. “He’s still sleeping as far as I can tell. Besides, there’s nothing in the world this guy wants less than to be shown around Austin, especially by me. At this point, the less we see each other, the better.”

“I don’t accept that!” Meg insists. “How could anyone not want to go on the world-famous Jared Padalecki Provaca-tour?”

“I tried showing him a good time once and just take my word for it that it did not go great.” There’s a knock at the door, and Jared groans. “Tell me that’s not—”

He can hear her grinning through the phone when she says, “Oh, by the way, I’m outside.”

“Not letting you in,” Jared says. “Going back to sleep instead.”

“That’s not a problem!” she replies. “I’ll knock on the guest bedroom window if necessary. My soon-to-be new best friend Jensen will let me in.”

“Jesus, please do not do that.” Jared is already rising from bed and grabbing the first shirt he sees to pull on as he rushes to meet her. “Do not wake the dragon.”

“Oh, come on. He can’t be _that bad_ ,” Meg is saying as Jared opens the door.

He hangs up the phone and glares at her. “Why? Are you? here?”

“Jensen,” she explains, mimicking Jared’s delivery. “Freaking. Ackles.”

“I don’t want you here,” Jared tells her. “Go home.”

“But you’re my big brother,” she reminds him. “My very favorite big brother. And I want very much to spend my day off with you. My favorite big brother. In the whole world.”

“I’m telling Jeff you said that,” Jared threatens.

“You know, I’ve always loved that you’re a snitch,” she replies, batting her eyes. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“Cute.” Jared takes her by the shoulders and turns her until she’s facing her car. “Now go.”

“The only thing that could make me go in that direction,” she points forward, “when Jensen Ackles is in that direction,” she points behind her, “is if Lizzo was sitting on the hood of my car.”

“You don’t even like his music!” Jared reminds her. “You used to pitch a fit when I got to play it in the car.”

“So? He’s still way more famous than anyone else I’ve ever hung out with.” She places her hands on her hips. “And in conclusion, I will be spending my day off with him.”

“There will be no spending the day with him,” Jared says. “You will not interact with him at all. Believe me, I am doing you a favor.”

“You can’t not share,” Meg insists, shoving Jared’s arm to try to see past him. “I’m the reason he's here in the first place!”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have words about that when this is over,” Jared says. “But in the meantime, you’re still my sister, and I still don’t want you to talk to him, because I love you. He’s _terrible_ to girls. Especially cute ones.”

“He’s Jensen Ackles,” Meg replies, trying to run inside past Jared. He catches her easily and traps her flopping like a fish as she struggles in his arms. “How much do you think I’ll mind being objectified by him?”

Jared laughs and rolls his eyes. “That’s what Danneel said, too.”

“Oh, come on,” she whines, dragging the last word out like she used to when they were kids and Jared was left in charge of the house and tried in vain to stop her from having chocolate pudding for dinner. “I wanna see if he’s as pretty in real life.”

“Prettier,” Jared hears a deep, rich voice say from behind them.

“Fuck,” he curses to himself, but he lets Meg go, too, and straightens up, because evidently it’s too late to prevent this meeting from happening. 

“But not nearly as pretty as you,” Jensen adds, crossing the room and taking Meg’s hand in his before bending down to kiss it. “You must be Megan.”

Jared's hands curl into fists preemptively at the thought of having to watch Jensen treat his baby sister the way he treated Danneel the other night.

“Call me Meg,” Meg replies, giggling. Jared wants to wonder what it is about this guy, how he reduces every woman he meets to their most basic state, but then he remembers how much of his adolescence was spent jerking off to the thought of Jensen and concedes that it’s not just women who fall victim to his spell. Jared just had a big head start toward getting over it.

She stares at Jensen without blinking for a worryingly long time until he says, “Jared’s told me a lot about you.”

It’s not true. Jared really hasn’t said anything except that she exists and she’s the one who got him into this mess and he’s pissed at her for it. Jensen doesn’t mention any of that, and Jared will grant that his polite lie is considerably better than having her awkwardly stand there dumbstruck.

“About me?” she says, voice just hardly pitched lower than a squeal. “Jensen Ackles has heard about me?”

“Sure, sweetheart, but not as much as I’d like.” When Jensen smiles down at her, Jared realizes there’s a drawl creeping into his voice, and he can’t help rolling his eyes. For all his bitching about being in Texas and pretending not to understand the culture, Jensen has turned on Southern charm and slipped into it as if he’d never left. “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself?”

Jared slams the door shut, which makes both Meg and Jensen jolt and look over at him.

“I’m going to make us all a snack,” he says, thin-lipped. “A word in the kitchen, Casanova?”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “You think he’s talking to me or you?”

Jared stomps past Meg, who is laughing, and drags Jensen by the fabric of his shirt, tugging him through the living room and into the kitchen. He grabs bread and pulls some things from the fridge, setting ham, cheese, and mayonnaise out on the counter.

“Is this going to be a master class in sandwich making?” Jensen asks. “Because I’m actually already pretty good at it.”

“I want to be very clear,” Jared says, cutting through Jensen’s bullshit. “If you so much as think about disrespecting my sister, I will have you out of this house and dropped by your label so fast you won’t be able to process it. Any questions?”

Jensen turns to look toward the door and then back to Jared like he’s checking for something. “What did I miss? I just woke up and I’ve already insulted your family somehow?”

“You’re a dick,” Jared reminds him. “Especially to women.”

“I’m also a person,” Jensen responds. “Capable of behaving like one on occasion.”

“Are you?” Jared aggressively smears mayo on a slice of bread and then points his knife at Jensen. “Prove it.”

“First you’d have to give me a chance.” Jensen gently guides Jared’s knife down so it’s not aimed at him quite as much. “I haven’t done anything to justify stabbing just yet.”

“She’s my little sister.” Jared layers ham and then cheese as he grits his teeth. “Chances are thin here. I’m not going to sit through another scene like the one with Danni.”

The smile Jensen gets on his face only pisses Jared off more, because it seems like he’s not taking Jared seriously. Until Jensen says, “I like that you’re protective of your sister. I get it. I have one, too.”

Pictures from Jared’s years of following Jensen’s career flash back into his memory. He’d forgotten Jensen had a sister, but she’s by his side more often than anyone else, and her appearances range from glamourous at the Grammys to unflattering paparazzi shots of Jensen walking into rehab with her holding up a purse, trying to cover his face.

“You remind me of her, a little bit. She’s protective over me like this.” Jensen gestures at Jared. “Can you imagine? She’s a foot shorter and half a decade younger, and yet she’ll try to fight a billboard if she thinks it didn’t do me justice.” Jensen’s smile is impossibly fond as he speaks. “Nah, man. Sisters are not to be taken lightly. I won’t do anything to hurt yours, I swear.”

Jared watches him for a long moment before sliding the finished sandwich towards Jensen, assessing his promise and trying to decide if he believes it or not. Weirdly enough, he does. Jensen’s expression as he likens Jared to his sister almost seems to be full of respect. Which is decidedly not something Jensen has felt for him before now.

“I’m not eating this one,” Jensen announces, even as he takes the plate and carries it out of the room. “Be careful, Meg,” Jared hears from the living room, and he assumes Jensen is handing the plate over when he adds, “this ham sandwich was made in anger. Its spirit is dark.”

“Who makes ham and cheese sandwiches at 9:30 in the morning, anyway?” Meg replies. Despite her complaint, her next statement is said through what sounds like a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich. “Have you noticed what a freak my big brother is yet?”

It takes a while for the joking in the next room to stop being at Jared’s expense, but after about five minutes of small talk, Jensen has asked Meg what she’s doing at school and she’s stopped sounding nervous, easing enough to be her usual self.

Good on his word, Jensen doesn’t flirt like he had the other night with Danneel. Instead he talks to Meg like she’s an equal, and, before long, they’ve settled into enough of a pattern that Jared doesn’t feel the need to supervise quite as strongly. He returns to the task he invented to justify bringing Jensen into the kitchen, feeling a little silly now that it’s been pointed out he’s making lunch for breakfast but too far along to stop, and tunes out of their conversation until he’s done.

“My assistant, Genevieve, she’s way into that kind of stuff, too. Not as much as you, obviously, I mean, she’s not going to school for it, but I bet she’d love to pick your brain.”

Jared smirks as he enters the room, dropping the big bag of chips he brought on the coffee table in front of the couch for everyone to share.

Grateful for Jensen’s attempts to behave so far, he hands over one of the sandwiches he’s carrying and mouths ‘thank you’ before plopping down into the nearest armchair.

“Let me guess,” he says after the moment with Jensen has passed. “She’s started going on about the mysteries of the deep.”

Unexpectedly, Jensen meets his gaze, clearly amused by his fraternal teasing, but he keeps the rest of his expression trained on Meg, feigning fascination.

Meg narrows her eyes at Jared. “Some people happen to find what I study very interesting!”

“Some people are unwilling prisoners,” Jared replies, winking at Jensen.

Meg throws one of the couch pillows at him; fortunately her aim hasn’t gotten any better since they were kids, so it hits the wall behind him and promptly falls to the floor.

“Marine biology is an important and undervalued field,” she insists, turning to face Jensen. “We know less about our own oceans than about the planets in our solar system.”

“Keep up the PSA, I’m sure he’ll write an album all about it,” Jared teases. “Track four: Save the Whales.” Jensen outright laughs at that, and Jared feels his eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You totally got that joke.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jensen replies, attempting to look innocent. “That was a pity laugh.”

“Look at that,” Jared continues as if he hadn’t heard the denial. “I learned something today. The bad boy of rock and roll watches Star Trek.”

“One or two episodes when I was a kid,” Jensen admits.

Jared turns to his sister. “You hear that, Meg? Jensen Ackles is a Trekkie.”

Meg looks between the two of them like she’s not sure where she lost the conversation.

“Hey, do you go all in on the costume when you attend the conventions?” Jared bites his bottom lip and for a moment forgets that Jensen hates him, and he hates Jensen, and lets his natural instinct to be a pain in the ass whenever possible take over. He reaches out, flicking the edge of Jensen’s ear. “You don’t even have to buy the fake ears, you’ve already got a nice pointy pair.”

Jensen catches his hand as he tries to pull it away, and Jared is expecting him to be upset, wouldn’t even blame him if he was, because they aren’t friends, and Jared has no right to touch him. Instead, Jensen fights a smile as he presses his palm to Jared’s in the Vulcan salute.

“I have been and always shall be your friend,” Jensen says, doing a pretty decent impression.

“Oh my god,” Meg says in abject disgust. “There’s two of them. Like one Star Wars nerd in the house wasn’t enough.”

Jensen drops Jared’s hand as he grabs at his chest, staring at Meg like she just offended his entire ancestral line, but Jared shakes his head and waves away Jensen’s concern.

“Don’t fall for it,” he says. “She’s just as big a geek as I am. She’s pretending not to know the difference to impress you.”

“As if I need to _try_ to sound cooler than Commander Spock over here,” Meg replies, pointing to Jensen.

After that, they all kick back and spend the rest of the day arguing over Star Wars prequels and pizza toppings. It’s actually a pretty easy-going time, but when Meg says her goodbyes at the end of the night, Jensen goes cold again as soon as the door closes behind her.

His lips thin as he catches Jared’s eyes and he opens his mouth, but Jared cuts him off.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You’re going to your room.”

* * *

Jared doesn't let the fact that Jensen is allergic to him ruin his night. In fact, he has a rather nice evening, rewarding himself for another day down by enjoying a good book in a long bath. He's warm and content as he tucks himself into bed, reassured by the fact that he only has one week left of this before Jensen is just another unpleasant occurrence in the worst year of Jared's life.

At least, he thinks he's done for the day. Until he wakes up a few hours later and hears a horrible sound echoing from down the hall. Reluctantly, Jared pushes his covers aside and drags himself out to investigate the trouble.

It doesn't take long to trace the origin. The door to the hallway bathroom is wide open, lights all off, but a beam of moonlight from the window is all it takes to get the situation across. He can't see much of Jensen, just the silhouette of someone sitting on the floor with his back against the tub, face resting on the lip of the toilet bowl until he rises to his knees and curls over it, trying to heave but only making a dry retching noise. Obviously, that's what woke Jared.

Apparently oblivious to his presence, Jensen lets out a pained whimper and slips a little, scrambling to regain his grip on the porcelain. Even from where he's standing, Jared can see that Jensen is trembling.

As much as Jared wishes he could take some joy in Jensen's suffering, the guy looks absolutely pathetic and more than anything, it just makes him feel sad. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, not even after the way Jensen has treated him.

He remembers something he read in a textbook what feels like a lifetime ago, back when Jared still had a future ahead of him. "Some drugs take longer to crash. Especially party drugs like whatever you enjoyed on Saturday."

Jensen gives a light start at hearing Jared's voice but seems to be too drained to react more than that to being discovered. "You don't have to explain to me how this works. I'm very familiar, thanks."

"I guess whoever spiked your drink really was a fan," Jared says, leaning against the doorframe. "If they knew what kind of poison you favor."

"Just take the picture already," Jensen groans. "Then fuck off. And spare me the gloating."

"Picture?" Jared asks.

"Don't play dumb." He stops talking for a moment to swallow a few times, and Jared figures his mouth must be pretty dry, so he begins filling the rinsing cup by the sink with water as Jensen continues, "You can sell this for way more than fifty grand, break the contract with my label, and get me out of your house faster. America loves to see famous people hit rock bottom."

Jared says, "True, but I'm not gonna do that." 

"Well, then, could you leave, please? I don't really need an audience for this."

Frowning, Jared considers it. He can't imagine what it feels like for someone as proud as Jensen to have a near stranger—one he doesn't particularly like, at that—around to witness such a low point. It would be kinder in a way to let Jensen go through this alone, as he apparently is used to doing…

But the things is, Jared can help. Jared can actually _help_ , and Jared has so little to offer anyone these days.

Instead of going back to bed, he kneels next to Jensen and hands him the glass. "Here, drink this. Your biggest problem is dehydration."

Jensen eyes him uncertainly for only a moment before accepting the offering and downing all the water in one long pull. Jared watches him drink for a moment and then changes focus, looking Jensen over for other symptoms. He's soaked with sweat, so Jared goes back to the sink to wet a washcloth with cool water before returning to Jensen's side.

He begins to wipe Jensen down, and it's a sign of just how much discomfort he's in that Jensen leans into the touch for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm a mess," he says. He starts to repeat it over and over, a litttle frantic as he tries to push Jared away from him. "I'm a mess. I'm a mess. Don't touch me. I'm disgusting. I'm such a fucking mess."

"Shh," Jared replies. He smiles to himself, remembering everything he had to do to keep Dee clean not too long ago, and how fucked up is it that a part of him is at peace right now. It's been months since he was needed. He feels almost like a person again having a purpose, even if that purpose is helping someone he knows wouldn’t do the same for him. "Believe me, I'm used to dealing with much worse."

Jensen only has the energy to fuss for a few moments longer before he submits to Jared's care, and before long, Jared is helping him back across the hall and into the guest room. He glances around, noting Jensen's open suitcase in one corner, considering going diving in it for a change of clothes before he decides it would be too much trouble. He still hasn't moved all of his things out of this room, so he knows exactly where to find what he's looking for in the drawers tucked up against the nearest wall.

"Here, let's get you changed into something dry before you get in bed. You'll never stop shaking if you're soaked in sweat."

He pulls an old t shirt and a pair of shorts out and offers them to Jensen, who even in his current state manages to be a delight. He sneers, says, "Wouldn't you like that? I'm not gonna strip for you, man."

Jared huffs and pushes the clothes against Jensen's chest until Jensen takes them. "I'll go get you some Gatorade for electrolytes and an Advil for the cramping. You can dress yourself."

By the time he's back from the kitchen, Jensen is already wearing the PJs Jared gave him. He has to stifle a laugh when he realizes it's one of Jensen's old tour shirts, so his face is staring at Jared both in person and in the worn silkscreen print across his chest. He knew the stuff in that set of drawers was old, but he'd forgotten just how much evidence of his Jensenmania days there is tucked away in this house.

"I guess I deserve that," Jensen grumbles as he takes the pill Jared gives him and swallows it down with a sip of bright blue liquid.

"Deserve what?" Jared asks, checking Jensen's temperature and then running his hand back through Jensen's hair instinctively. A soothing gesture, but one that probably would be better left out of this particular moment.

"To be laughed at." Jensen looks away and shrugs. "Go ahead."

"When you wake up tomorrow, look in the mirror before you change back into your own clothes, okay? You'll laugh, too."

Jensen licks his lips. "Well, whatever. I feel a little better now."

Jared nods and they both sit in silence for a while, Jensen occasionally taking sips of his Gatorade and Jared doing whatever little things pop into his head to make him more comfortable. 

As he watches Jensen try to settle, Jared has the guilty realization that this probably started hours ago, when he was just a few rooms over, enjoying his night off from Jensen duty. He had been so quick to assume Jensen barricading himself in here was because of some personal aversion to Jared that he hadn't even considered that a high like Jensen's comes with a mid-week crash. Jensen was probably already in some amount of pain while Meg was still around, and yet he had pushed through it to put on a show, give her a pleasant experience of him. No wonder he'd taken off so soon after she left. If Jared had paid better attention, he could have helped sooner. It didn’t have to get this bad.

It makes him uneasy to leave Jensen's side, even as it becomes obvious that he's run out of ways to be helpful.

Eventually, Jensen calls him on it. "Look, I appreciate it and all, but you should really go back to bed."

"I'll go when you're asleep. I want to be sure you're okay to—"

"I'm not gonna fall asleep, especially not tonight." Jensen's tone goes mean, the way it seems to so often when he and Jared are alone. "I don't know how anyone could sleep in here with all these creepy clown statuettes staring down at them."

Jared refuses to take the bait, feigning obliviousness to Jensen's attitude. "Oh, I can move those if you'd like."

There's a sigh of defeat before Jensen admits, "I don't sleep much, alright? Not just when I'm crashing. It's…"

The textbook listing of withdrawal effects returns to Jared's mind and he nods in understanding. Inability to sleep is another symptom of Jensen's kind of drug abuse, and one that's often longer term than the rest of what he's going through right now. It won't improve with a little Gatorade.

"Right," he says awkwardly. "I'll leave you alone then, if there's nothing else you need?"

"You've done enough," Jensen replies, and Jared thinks it's supposed to sound snotty, but it comes out more earnest than anything.

He rises to his feet and moves the chair he pulled up to Jensen's bedside back across the room, but just as he's flipping off the light switch and about to close the door, he's stopped.

"Jared." Jensen's voice is quiet as a whisper, striking in its softness.

Enough so that Jared pauses and meets his eyes. "Yeah?"

Jensen hesitates for a long moment before asking, "Why would you help me?"

Jared considers it. After the way he's behaved, Jared certainly would have had every right to leave him shaking on the cold tile floor, and apparently Jensen knows it, too.

He chews his lip as he tries to decide whether to be honest or if there's a good lie he can come up with. It would take too long to think of one, he decides, and all he wants is to get back to bed, so he just admits the truth. "Taking care of people is really all I'm good at."


	4. Day Four

There’s something cooking. Jared sits up in bed, horrified at the thought that his house is on fire, but as the fog of sleep begins to clear, he realizes it mostly smells like bacon and relaxes back against his pillow. Houses probably don’t smell like bacon when they’re burning down. Unless people are inside them and people smell like…

It takes a moment for Jared to remember that there actually is someone else in the house, someone who is way more likely to be into arson than making his own breakfast, and he weighs if his bed is too comfortable and Jensen is too much of an asshole for it to be worth getting up to save him.

Listening for sounds of life or distress, Jared picks up on the fact that there’s singing drifting down the hallway, deep and whiskey warm, with a cadence that feels familiar, even though it’s been years since Jared stopped listening on a regular basis.

Jensen probably wouldn’t be singing if his life was at risk, but now Jared crawls out of bed just for the novelty of it: the asshole rock star who’s been barricaded in his guest room for the last three nights suddenly electing to do something for himself. He glances over to the clock on his nightstand and it’s still early enough that Jensen could have just waited for Jared to make something like he has for every other meal since he arrived.

Jared finds Jensen flipping pancakes in the kitchen, dancing to some old Rolling Stones song that’s only playing in his head.

“Um, good morning,” Jared says, scratching himself as he looks around at the controlled mess of a big meal being prepared.

When Jensen turns to look at him, he drops the song he was singing, his mouth hanging open in a caught expression as his eyes track down to Jared’s stomach where he’s lifting his shirt to scratch it and back up. Then he laughs brightly at whatever he’s seeing.

“Man, your hair is just…” Jensen gestures around his head with the spatula. “A whole situation up there.”

“Bite me,” Jared replies, smoothing down his bedhead with both hands. “Since when do you know how to cook?”

“Since always,” Jensen answers, smiling as he nods towards the table. “Why don’t you take a seat and let me wait on you for a change?”

Jared does his best to make his distrust of the situation shine through on his face. “Who the hell are you and where’s the other guy? Not that I miss him.”

Jensen purses his lips as he stacks three pancakes and a side of bacon onto a plate before handing it to Jared. “I was thinking maybe hash browns and eggs, too, but it felt like it might be overkill. You want potatoes? How do you like your eggs?”

“I think this is enough,” Jared replies, still confused. “Is there—?”

Jensen holds up a pot of coffee and Jared grabs a mug, letting Jensen pour for him until there’s just enough room for cream and sugar.

“Well, go on, now. Eat!” Jensen tells him, shooing him toward the table before starting on his own plate and switching off the fire. “Tell me what you think of the pancakes.”

“Are they poisoned?” Jared asks, eyeing the food in front of him.

“Not unless you’re allergic to cinnamon and vanilla,” Jensen replies. “Which, if you are, that’s on you for keeping them in your spice drawer.”

“Cinnamon and vanilla?” Jared asks, cutting a piece and taking the bite. “Oh, wow. These are delicious.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen agrees. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “I figured I’ve been a pretty shitty guest these last few days. Least I could do was cook breakfast. Try to make up for it.”

He blinks a few times at that, amazed by the lengths some people will go to avoid simply saying 'thank you.' Jensen has obviously been up for hours, if he slept at all, and has spent all of that time preparing a gigantic meal instead of just apologizing for his behavior and thanking Jared for his help. The guy is unbelievable.

Jared takes a bite from his bacon, which is chewier than he’d prefer, and shrugs. “The pancakes are good. They aren’t _that_ good.”

“I never said we were even now. Just that it’s a start.” Jensen cuts his pancakes with his fork. “I’m sorry, okay? About the first night. I was in a bad place.”

“I don’t generally think of my living room as a bad place.” Jared rolls his eyes. “Anyway, you haven’t exactly been an ideal roommate since then just because you’ve been sober.”

“I thought yesterday was fun,” Jensen says, looking down at the table. “Your sister is—”

“The reason our day was tolerable.” Jared shakes his head. “Look, I appreciate the meal and all, but let’s not pretend we’re going to have a good week here, okay? I know what you think of me. I don’t have an especially high opinion of you, either. Let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way. That’s what you want, right?”

“I don’t see any reason we shouldn’t make an effort to do better than that,” says Jensen, as if he’s not the one who showed up and started throwing fits without giving Jared a chance. “Not like this place is big enough to really avoid each other. We might as well see if we can get along.”

“You can barely stand to be alone in a room with me for five minutes,” Jared reminds him, setting his fork down on his plate. “Now you want to be friends? Must have been some pretty good Gatorade.”

Jensen's eyes widen for a moment when Jared alludes to what happened last night, and he shakes his head before carrying on without acknowledging it at all. “I want to not spend the next seven days locked in your guest bedroom with a bunch of glass cat figurines smiling at me. I’m going stir crazy in there.”

“Whose fault is that?” Jared asks. “I offered to show you around town and you just bitched about how much you hate the whole damn state of Texas. Not to mention the one time—”

“I get it,” Jensen snaps. “I fucked up. What’s the point of giving me a second chance if you won’t give _me_ a second chance?”

Jared squints at him. “Was that supposed to be philosophical?”

He’s kind of surprised when Jensen laughs, ducking his head. “Whatever, I’m not Misha. Shit like that sounds deep when he says it.”

Jensen fidgets, a carryover of addiction, but one that doesn't seem to manifest in him unless he's agitated. Jared thinks about Jensen's sudden peace offerings and how similar his demeanor now is to the way he'd been so keyed up when he was waiting to find out if Jared was going to kick him out or not. He hadn't said all the things he was worried about then, but that doesn't mean he hadn't felt them, and despite his inability to express gratitude or even admit that last night happened, he has the same almost-vulnerable edge in his expression. Like he actually cares if Jared is mad at him and genuinely wants to show appreciation for Jared's help when he was down and out.

Either that, or Jensen is a much better actor than the critics gave him credit for after his cameos in the movies whose soundtracks he contributed to, because he's got Jared fooled. And it only seems fair that if he's going to hold a grudge that Jensen didn't give him a chance, he owes Jensen a shot to prove he's better than what he's shown so far. He put real effort into making something nice for Jared to wake up to, and maybe that's not saying it in words, but it can serve as a 'thank you' for now.

“Alright,” Jared says as he finishes his meal. “But only because my heart is in my stomach and the vanilla satisfied my sweet tooth.”

“If it works, it works.” Jensen smiles, a little forced, but damned if he’s not pretty enough to pull it off. “So…tell me about you.”

“You’ve been here for three days and you haven’t asked a single thing about me.”

“I’m asking now.” Jensen drums his fingers on the table and there’s a long pause as he tries to figure out how to interact with a human being on any subject other than himself. “What do you do? Are you, like, a teacher? Is that why you were able to get so much time off, because it’s spring break? I could totally see you as a teacher.”

“I’m…” Jared steels himself for what he’s sure is going to be a mocking response. “I’m unemployed right now. I was going to school to be a nurse, but I dropped out.”

“Oh,” is all Jensen says, which is at least better than the insult Jared was expecting.

“My aunt was sick,” he explains, eager to defend himself before Jensen starts judging. “She needed someone to look after her. So I did.”

“That’s like nursing in real life,” Jensen points out. “You should get college credit.”

“Hah,” Jared responds. “If only. Instead I’ve got no resume and a ton of student loan debt with no degree to show for it.”

“But I bet your aunt appreciates it,” Jensen reasons.

“She’s dead.” Jared licks his lips and turns his face, trying to keep his voice even. “She died a few months ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jensen’s voice is oddly heavy, enough so that Jared meets his eyes, and the concern in them seems real enough. “I can tell you really cared about her.”

“She was my best friend,” Jared admits. “I know how stupid that sounds, but it’s true. I always clicked with Auntie Dee. It was kind of bizarre, actually, me being a little kid and preferring cruising around with an adult, painting the town red, to playing with other children. But she was such a character.”

“I bet she was.” Jensen hesitates, obviously not sure what else to say, and Jared laughs, surprising them both.

When Jensen gives him a questioning look, Jared explains. “I guess this wasn’t what you expected when you asked the relatively inoffensive question, ‘What do you do for a living?’”

Jensen kind of smiles at him. “I was hoping for teacher. Nothing awkward about that.”

“I was glad to do it, so it’s not like—I mean, I’m sad, obviously, that I lost her. But all I could do was make her last few years comfortable, and I did that. I’m not embarrassed that I didn’t finish school or get a good job, because I wouldn’t have been able to help her if I had. We wouldn’t have gotten that time together. It wasn’t glamorous, but she never lost her sense of humor about it all.”

“Was she very young?” Jensen asks.

“Nah, she was about my grandma’s age, actually.” Jared grins, leaning in like there’s anyone to overhear the gossip. “My dad’s half-sister. Grandpa and his high school choir teacher.”

“Oh, damn,” Jensen replies, laughing. “That’s a scandal right there.”

“She and grandma never liked each other much.” Jensen grins as Jared continues, “Of course, things like that weren’t talked about back then, and Aunt Dee had no problem telling anyone and everyone exactly where she came from. She didn’t care what people thought of her.”

“Thanksgiving must have been fun,” Jensen jokes.

“Like something out of a movie every year without fail. Dee would say things just to make Grandma’s head spin, then she’d get angry at Grandpa for laughing instead of telling his daughter to behave. The drama was already well-established by the time I was born. And of course, everyone was expected to take sides.”

“I think I can guess which side you were on,” says Jensen.

Jared sits back in his chair, smiling. “That’s why I was the favorite."

“Probably not to Grandma,” Jensen guesses.

“Grandma couldn’t resist this face.” Jared points to himself. “Just look at these dimples.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty irresistible,” Jensen replies, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing the last few years.” Jared shrugs. “Not exactly as exciting as selling out world tours.”

“I haven’t been selling out any world tours the last few years either,” Jensen says. “See? We have more in common than we thought.”

Jared huffs a laugh at that, surprised to hear Jensen poke fun at himself for a change.

“So what’s next, then?” Jensen asks. “What’s the plan?”

Jared bites his bottom lip, the smile dying out. He’s got no good answer. “Well, I’ve spent the last few months doing absolutely nothing and eating through the money Aunt Dee left me, which wasn’t much. I didn’t have any direction at all until I won your contest. I can go back to school with the money I'll get. Put my life back on track.”

Jensen is quiet for a spell, until finally he asks, “This was her house, wasn’t it?”

“What gave it away, all the floral wallpaper or the doilies?”

Instead of laughing at Jared’s joke, Jensen’s frown deepens. “I shouldn’t have said what I said about it, Jared. I’m sorry.”

“Well, when you try really hard to be an asshole, sometimes you end up being an asshole.”

For a moment, Jensen actually looks ashamed. He stands immediately, snatching Jared’s plate and carrying it to the sink with his own. Like he’s more anxious not to be seen looking sorry than he is to have the apology accepted.

As he rinses the dishes, Jensen changes the subject. “Okay, so what else is there going on in your life? Family stuff? I already know your charming sister, of course.”

“I’m from San Antonio, which is where my parents and my older brother still live.”

“A Texas boy, born and bred,” Jensen says, with an edge of disdain. “I could have guessed that.”

“Dude, what do you have against Texas?” Jared asks. “You think your fans haven’t noticed that you won’t make a tour stop anywhere in the state? Was growing up in Dallas really that traumatizing?”

Jensen’s lips thin and he gives a bare shake of his head. “We’re talking about you today.”

“Fine, fine.” Jared waves his hand dismissively. “There’s not much else to say on the subject.”

“What about,” Jensen waggles his eyebrows, “romance?”

“I had a boyfriend,” Jared answers. “Stephen. We were together for three and a half years, but, uh, he dumped me. Four months ago. Not long after Dee passed.”

“Yikes, so your life pretty much sucks, huh?”

Jared narrows his eyes. “You know, for like half an hour there, I was actually starting to think maybe you weren’t a complete piece of shit.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jensen sets the last dish on the drying rack and turns to face Jared, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t get a lot of chances to talk to people. And I’m usually drunk or high, which makes it easy to forget to filter. Would you believe I’m trying?”

“Would you believe you’re not trying hard enough?” Jared replies.

Jensen licks his lips and lets his eyes meet Jared’s. “I know what it’s like to be in a slump. It might sound like entitled bullshit coming from someone like me, but I know what you’re going through. Not calling it what it is never helped make it any better.”

“The guy I thought I was going to spend my life with left me three weeks after I watched the person I was closest to die, and I’ve got no prospects beyond the next six months, so yeah, life isn’t great right now. But I can imagine how much harder it is to be a rich celebrity beloved by millions.”

“Forget it,” Jensen says. “Too bad your boyfriend was such an asshole. You could stand to get laid.”

“He wasn’t an asshole,” Jared insists. “I was the asshole.”

Jensen blinks slowly a few times, then shakes his head. “Did I mishear something? The man left you in the same month your aunt died.”

“I was really depressed at the time,” Jared explains. “And that made me pretty unpleasant to deal with.”

“So fucking what?” Jensen asks. “He didn’t even give you the chance to heal. If he’d supported you, maybe you would have gotten out of that state of mind sooner, instead he made it worse.”

“Being in pain doesn’t give you a free pass to hurt others,” Jared says. “Maybe you missed that lesson in first grade but I take responsibility for my actions. Now can we drop this?”

Instead of doing him the kindness, Jensen digs in harder. “I mean, what kind of person leaves after three and a half years the moment their partner needs them most? As soon as things get tough? He just wanted to take, not give back. That’s not a relationship, and he’s scum. You shouldn’t be defending him.”

“What do you know about it?” Jared demands. “Have you ever even been in a relationship in your life?”

Jensen crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re not talking about me.”

“No, for some reason we’re talking about Stephen, who you don’t even know,” Jared replies.

“I know his type better than you probably do,” Jensen says in a sour tone. “A nice guy like you never would have left him when he needed you. In fact, I bet you stuck with him through plenty worse.”

Jared feels how tight he’s holding his jaw and tries to relax, but it’s hard when Jensen keeps traipsing through this mine field, cheerfully applying pressure to every ugly thought Jared has tried to push away. What happened was his fault. Blaming Stephen wouldn’t be fair.

“You still miss him,” Jensen guesses. “That’s why you make excuses for him. You know what he did was wrong. You’d take him back anyway. You’re a sucker. People are always going to treat you like this if you let them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jared replies sarcastically. “Maybe I should just assume the worst of everyone and act like they’re beneath me. The world would be such a better place if more people were like _you_.”

“Pretending everyone wants to hold hands and sing Kumbaya doesn’t change the fact that the world was made for people like Stephen,” says Jensen. “And pushovers like you end up getting walked all over.”

“I’m _not_ a pushover,” Jared insists. “If I were you I’d stop testing it.”

“Look at your life, dude.” Jensen gestures around them. “You gave up your dreams to help other people and you can’t even muster up a little anger when no one is there for you.”

“Stop it,” Jared snaps. “I said don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I’m trying to help,” Jensen says with a shrug. “Anyway, if you had a spine, you wouldn’t have to listen. You would have sent me packing on day one.”

“So, you’re upset because I didn’t toss you out on your ass like you deserved?” Jared asks. “If you’re benefiting from what a doormat I supposedly am, why be a jerk about it? Why not just enjoy it?”

“Because you did me a favor by letting me stay and I’m trying to return it.”

“I want the money,” Jared tells him. “That’s the only reason you’re here.”

“Bullshit,” Jensen says. “You felt sorry for me, even after what I did. Even right now. It’s all over your face. You can’t walk around wearing your heart on your sleeve for people to see, Jared.”

“What would get better for me if I didn’t?” Jared asks. “Would it bring my aunt back? Would it make Stephen love me again? If I was bitter and jaded and mean, would that make me happy? Are you happy, Jensen?”

Jared watches Jensen flinch and immediately regrets what he said. He isn’t sure why, but he recognizes that, for once, Jensen was on his side, more upset on his behalf than Jared ever let himself be. Maybe the way he was showing it was harsher than necessary, but he really was trying to help. Jared shouldn’t have repaid that with anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, you’re right.” Jensen’s voice is strained. “Charmed life I’ve had.”

“I didn’t mean to dismiss you like that earlier,” Jared tells him. “And I had no business saying what I said to you just now.”

“God, stop being so _nice_. You don’t have to apologize,” Jensen says, sulking. “You owe me a little unpleasantness.”

“That’s not how it works.” Jared stands and walks to the kitchen until he’s just a few feet in front of Jensen. “Please accept my apology.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. The truth is the truth.” Jensen tries to brush past Jared, refusing to look at him. “Look, I’ll just go to my room and—”

“Come on a run with me,” Jared offers.

Jensen stares at him like the peace offering came out of nowhere, so Jared points toward the guest room.

“You’re gonna go get on the treadmill, right?” He waits for Jensen’s nod. “I can hear you running at all hours. I guess there’s nothing else to do if you insist on locking yourself in there, but I haven’t gotten a chance to work out since you arrived because you’re always using it and if you love running so much, why don’t you let me show you the area? I bet we’ll both stop being so bitchy if we actually leave this house for a few hours.”

To his credit, Jensen obviously considers it before shaking his head. “I can’t just go running around out there. People will recognize me. But I promise not to do anything stupid if you leave me alone for a bit. Go on.”

“Look, no offence, but no one here is going to know who you are. This neighborhood is practically a retirement community. I’m the only person under seventy for like twelve blocks. They all checked out of pop culture the same week that Stones song you were singing earlier was on top of the charts. Just run with me. I’ll even go slow so you can keep up.”

“Hey, screw you,” Jensen says, laughing as he gives Jared a light punch on the shoulder. “I’m fast as hell, you wish you could keep up with me.”

“Big talk from someone so short,” Jared teases.

Jensen weighs the offer for a few moments longer, until finally he smiles and says, “You’re on.”

* * *

It's just over four miles down to Jared's favorite creek, which feels more like ten in the Texas heat. Jensen is visibly uncomfortable until they reach the shaded forest path that runs along the water, at which point he begins outpacing Jared. It seems as if he was tensing in anticipation of being noticed, and he loosens all his muscles once it's clear that the suburb trail is even quieter than promised.

They pass one couple on bikes as they make their way in, but the encounter moves too quickly for more recognition than a passing "hello."

The trees give a merciful break from the direct sunlight, but after about twenty minutes, Jared sees a small clearing with benches right on the water, and he calls Jensen over.

"Giving up already, Padalecki?" Jensen asks, resting his hands on his knees as he catches his breath and then straightening, pulling his shirt up to wipe sweat off his face.

Jared drags his eyes away just in time to escape Jensen's wrath and shrugs, grabbing his water bottle and a protein bar from his backpack. "It's hotter than hell out here. I'll take water over pretending I'm too macho to need it."

"Thank god," Jensen replies, holding his hand out in the universal gesture for 'gimme.' Jared passes him the water, changing his focus to getting the energy bar unwrapped. "Not that I needed the break, of course. Because I _am_ extremely macho and could keep going all day." He stops to take a long and nearly pornographic drink of water and Jared is so hypnotized watching his throat work that he doesn't even care if Jensen has more than his fair share. After insisting he didn't want to carry a bottle of his own and wouldn't need any water. Okay, maybe he cares a little. "But I'm glad _you're_ taking care of _yourself_."

"Uh huh," Jared says, skeptical.

Jensen moves to sit next to him on the bench, pointing to the granola Jared's peeling the wrapper off. "I don't imagine you brought more than one of those."

Rolling his eyes, Jared digs into his bag and pulls out the snack he brought for Jensen.

"You're an unsung hero," Jensen tells him.

"Write a song about it," Jared replies.

Jensen huffs a laugh before taking a bite and they descend into a comfortable silence as they both chew.

He's not sure what moves him, but as he's looking out he sees a building towering just over the trees and points to it. "I went to prom in that hotel."

"I thought you were in San Antonio for high school," says Jensen.

Jared stops to observe Jensen, who is entirely focused on his food, for a few moments before he says, "I'm honestly surprised you were listening."

Jensen's eyes jump up to Jared's, a stung expression on his face for a moment before he looks away. "I listen."

"I met a boy who lived down the block when I was visiting Dee during the holidays Senior year, and he and I dated for a few months. We were the first gay couple to go to prom together at his high school." Jensen doesn't say anything to that, so Jared shakes his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't bring up—"

"Why should you apologize?" Jensen asks.

Jared shrugs. "I get that my sexuality makes you uncomfortable."

"So what?" Jensen doesn't deny it, but he at least applies his lack of consideration for others to himself as well. "Don't apologize for my sake. If someone doesn't like who you are, fuck 'em. Say what you want. You especially. You're unemployed. You've got no spouse. No kids—"

"Jesus," Jared mutters. "I get it, I'm nobody."

"That's not my point." Jensen threads his hands together and keeps his eyes focused on them. "You have no one to be accountable to. I can't imagine how freeing that is. If I were in your position I'd be doing whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want, and telling anyone who had a problem to go fuck themselves."

"Isn't that what you're already doing?" Jared teases.

Jensen's expression falls but he doesn't say anything else. Jared decides to take Jensen's advice and goes back to his original conversation topic.

"It was a really big deal at the time. They even had one of those opinion columns about us in the next issue of the student paper. You know, where one person writes an argument for and the other writes against? I still have it up on the wall in my bedroom."

"Didn't that piss you off?" Jensen asks. "Having strangers weigh in on your choices?"

"You tell me," Jared answers. "Happens to you a lot more often."

"Fuck 'em," Jensen reiterates.

He gestures at Jensen as he makes his point for him. "Exactly."

Jensen half smiles at that, and after a slight pause, he surprises Jared by continuing the conversation. "I didn't go to my prom. Spent the second half of high school on a tour bus with a tutor, so I didn't really know anyone to take. Would have had to go with some good girl picked out for me from church. And what's the point of a prom date if they won't put out, right?"

Jared wants to tell him he's a pig, but before he can, memories of his own prom night flood in and he can feel his cheeks burning as he blushes.

He looks up to find Jensen watching him closely, his expression dark, a lewd smile on his lips. " _Not_ a good boy, then. Good to know."

"Shut up." Jared pushes Jensen lightly on the chest as he laughs in delight at Jared's embarrassment. Jensen has to catch Jared's wrist to keep himself from falling back and he holds on for a long time, using the leverage to steady himself.

Jared licks his lips and casts his eyes to the ground once Jensen lets go of him. "I hadn't thought of how much you missed out on, getting famous as young as you did."

"Yeah, I…" Jensen is looking out at the stream when Jared checks in with him, and he seems to be deep in thought. Finally he continues, "I went to this summer camp every year, for kids with musical talent. That's where I started writing _Swan Song_. Things took off pretty fast after that. I know—I'm not complaining, I know how lucky I got. But there were sacrifices, definitely."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think most people spend the rest of their lives trying to forget everything that happened in high school, so you fast tracked right out of that one."

Jensen's head tilts back a little as he laughs. "I guess you got me there."

After that, they both go silent, watching the water as it rushes downstream. Jared is about to suggest they keep going when Jensen says, "This was a good idea, Jared. Getting out and breathing a little. Thanks for insisting."

"Be careful," Jared tells him as he stands and grabs his ankle, raising it to stretch in preparation to continue their run. Jensen looks up at him, concerned, and Jared just smirks. "You're dangerously close to sounding like you might not hate me."

"I don't hate you," Jensen replies immediately. "I hate _this_." He gestures in a way that's supposed to encompass…Jared's not sure what, maybe everything. As he's doing it, though, Jensen drops his hands. "At least, I thought I would. When they told me about the contest, I didn't think it would be like this. It's not actually so bad."

Jared smiles at that, genuinely happy to hear it. Then he squeezes Jensen's shoulder and says, "Last one home has to do all this sweaty laundry," before taking off as fast as he can.

He hears, "What are you, seven?" shouted at him from behind, but the laughter that follows it is much closer as Jensen catches up.

* * *

People start arriving at around four in the afternoon, which is when Jared suddenly remembers he’s having friends over.

“Fuck,” he says as he watches Chris making his way up the path to Jared’s front door, carrying a speaker on one shoulder and a six-pack of cheap beer in his other hand. “Oh, fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jensen asks, looking over from the TV to where Jared is standing at the window. 

They got back a couple of hours ago and have been lazing around Jared’s living room since they each finished showering. Jared tried to see if Jensen wanted to go out to a movie or something, but Jensen is now apparently incapable of doing anything but complaining about how sore he is, even though, if Jared’s being honest, the guy kicked his ass at their race and made it look easy, too.

Turns out Jensen’s refusal to do anything more intense than click a remote was for the best, seeing how Jared completely forgot he already had plans.

“I’m having a party tonight?” Jared tells him. “I guess I’m throwing a party tonight.”

He sees an uncomfortable expression settle on Jensen’s face, so he launches into an explanation, “It’s my friend Mike’s birthday and I completely forgot I agreed to host. Believe it or not, this is the best house we have for large gatherings in my group of friends, so we usually do barbecues and stuff out back. Chris asked months ago, before I knew about the contest, and I’ve been so busy with all the arrangements and everything that I never remembered to cancel.”

“It’s alright,” Jensen says, though he sounds off. “Dude, calm down, it’s not that big a deal.”

“There’s going to be drinking,” Jared tells him. “Jesus, what a fuck up. I have to tell them to go.”

“They’re already here,” Jensen points out. “A little late to switch venues, isn’t it?”

“You can’t be at a party with alcohol,” Jared says. “I’m such an asshole. I got all upset at you, but I’m the one who keeps putting you in situations where—”

“I’m responsible for my actions, not you. And part of healthy sobriety is making the right choice even when you have the option not to. Misha taught me that much. Sometimes I listen when he talks.”

“That’s all well and good, but you fell off the wagon three nights ago. It’s a little soon to be tempting fate like that.”

“Not looking like we’ve got much of a choice,” Jensen says, just as Chris starts knocking at the front door. He steps forward, taking Jared’s wrist to stop him before he can open it. “You want me to play for them, right?”

Jared’s eyebrows draw together. “Huh?”

Jensen nods his head out the window, where it’s easy to see Steve and Jason unpacking more musical equipment. “The label sent me here to be your performing monkey. Win some good publicity by doing private concerts for you and your friends to tell everyone about. There’s no shame in putting me to work. You don’t have to act like you didn’t plan it. Just…don’t worry about me, okay? I won’t make a scene in front of your friends. I’ll do what I was sent here to do.”

He frowns, because the assumption is a little sad, but he understands where it’s coming from. Only so many years you can be treated like a commodity before you start to think you have to earn your right to exist somewhere.

“If you want to play, I’m sure they’ll let you,” Jared says, putting on a doubtful voice. “But mostly Chris and his band like to think they’re the hottest thing in country music and will use literally any excuse to hold the rest of us hostage as an audience. Believe me, they wouldn’t let you steal the spotlight all night if you wanted to.”

Jared shoots Jensen a look to say they’ll continue the conversation in a moment and opens the door to greet his friends.

* * *

As tends to happen with Jared’s cook-outs, things are quiet and steady until right around sunset, by which point the growing crowd and buzz of alcohol begin to make his friends a little rowdy. Guests start arriving at six, after Chris and his band have had plenty of time to set up their equipment and Jared has the grill warmed and ready. 

The fact that Jensen Ackles happens to be in attendance is note-worthy for the first few arrivals, up until Mike and Tom roll up, and then the excitement shifts to the birthday boy, the group of old friends invading Jared’s backyard more interested in catching up with each other than the passing novelty of Jensen’s fame.

Despite his party boy reputation, Jensen sticks to Jared’s side like glue for the first few hours, not saying much but observing the conversations Jared has with his friends as they stop by his station and watch him flip burgers.

“So you’ve all known each other since high school?” Jensen asks when most of Jared’s guests have said their hellos and grabbed food, and the scene around the grill becomes relatively quiet. Jensen’s eyes travel over the groups of people conversing scattered around the yard and back to Jared. “And you still like each other?”

“Not all of us. Met in high school, I mean. We do for the most part like each other. Chris and Mike and Jason and Danneel and I were all at Alamo High together. Go Rattlers!” Jared gestures as if his beer is a pompom and Jensen snorts. Then he gets back on topic, “Some folks we picked up in college when we moved here.” He starts pointing to his friends, mostly focusing on people Jensen has already met tonight. “Chris and Alona met working on a ranch one summer during high school. Chad was my roommate freshman year.”

“How about—?” Jensen begins, but before he can finish his thought, a shout rings out across the party.

“Everyone stop! Stop what you’re doing! This is an emergency!”

Jared’s eyebrows furrow in concern as he looks over from the deck to see Mike, completely hammered, fully attired in his birthday crown and sash, standing at the edge of the pool with his arms out, both palms held up in the universal gesture for ‘pause.’

It’s a hilarious sight, the way everyone has stayed in place, even the people who had been splashing in the pool. Beth and Sophia, sitting on their respective partner’s shoulders, are frozen with their arms locked in a game of chicken, and under them Aldis and Adrianne exchange looks, like they’re not sure whether they should put their girlfriends down or not.

The entire crowd awaits Mike’s important news, which makes it that much more ridiculous when he points to the speaker above his head and slurs, “This is _Black_. By Pearl Jam. And you all aren’t even listening to it. Do you people not appreciate how good this song is?”

For a moment, everyone takes it in, blinking in confusion at the announcement that interrupted their festivities. Then Chad reaches out from inside the pool, grabbing Mike’s ankle, which in Mike’s current state is enough to destabilize him, causing him to topple shirt, shorts, shoes, and all into the deep end.

A hysterical peal of laughter breaks out as Jared’s friends watch Mike’s antics, except for poor Tom, who is, as Jared predicted, hiding his face in his hands and discretely trying to step behind the nearest tree to escape his boyfriend’s humiliating display.

Jensen is smirking as he lifts an eyebrow at Jared. “It is a good song, though.”

“ _Damn good_ song.” Jared grins and raises his beer to his lips, finishing what’s left in the bottle.

Jensen angles his head in Tom’s direction and says, “I was just about to ask how those two got together. They seem to be pretty oddly suited for each other.”

Jared shrugs, taking a bottle from the cooler next to him and using the opener mounted on the side of his grill to remove the cap. It’s only his second drink of the night; Jensen insisted he could let loose as much as he wants, but Jared is staying sharp to keep an eye on him and, in all honesty, is having a good enough time manning the grill while people swing by to talk and get selfies with Jensen that he doesn’t feel like he’s missing much by being more-or-less sober.

By now, everyone has returned to their conversations and activities. Jared shakes the melted ice water off his hand and shrugs. “Honestly, we’re not actually sure. When they first started dating, we tried asking where they met. Mike would get this weird leer on his face and Tom would turn bright red and start stammering. We sort of decided we don’t want to know at that point.”

“Your friends are a trip,” Jensen says, fondly shaking his head. “This reminds me of the kinds of parties I went to back when I was starting out. Those were good times. Smaller groups, a little quieter, everybody knows each other. Not like the ragers I’ve been bouncing around for the last few years.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks, feeling himself smile as he takes a sip from his drink. “I’m glad you’re not completely bored. I’m sure it’s probably weird not knowing anyone when the rest of us are so close-knit.”

Jensen shrugs. “I know you.”

It feels oddly heavy from someone who by all indications hated him until this morning, so Jared decides to move away from it. “I guess there is one glaring difference. How many of the people at your quaint little backyard soirees have been on the cover of Stereo Type?”

Jensen points to the speaker Mike had directed their attention to earlier, which is wrapping up the last few notes of _Black_. “Eddie played an acoustic version at my birthday party once,” he says casually, watching with amusement as Jared chokes, spitting the sip of beer he was in the middle of back into the bottle. “When he was producing a couple of songs on my third album.”

As Jared continues to sputter, Jensen rounds the grill and pats him on the back to help sooth his coughing. “You okay?”

“Eddie Vedder,” Jared says with some effort. “Eddie Vedder played at your birthday party?”

“Well, yeah, we’re friends.” Jensen gestures to the wooden planks set down on Jared’s lawn to create a makeshift stage where Chris is tuning a guitar, preparing for his big moment. “That’s what friends do. You know, I could probably connect you two the next time he’s passing through here. I’m sure they’ll end up at ACL again or something.”

“I saw them perform last time,” Jared says excitedly. “The most amazing set I’ve ever seen aside from—” He realizes he’s about to pad Jensen’s already considerable ego and decides not to finish the sentence. “You really think he’d meet me?”

“Sure, man, I can ask for backstage passes or something.” Jensen laughs sheepishly. “That’s one of the, like, four bridges I haven’t burnt yet, might as well use it.”

“Well, if you could just stay in his good graces until the next time they’re in Texas for my sake, that’d be awesome.” Jared flips some burgers, moving the last of the hot dogs off the grill and onto the nearest empty serving plate. “I don’t even know what I would say to him. I’m sure I’d forget my own name.”

“No way,” Jensen says, pursing his lips. “If my reputation is gonna be riding on it, you gotta hold it together when you meet Eddie. You can’t do that thing you did when you first opened the door the other day, saw me, and forgot how to talk for a minute.”

“Lucky you made an ass out of yourself before I really had a chance to make one of myself.”

“Fair point.” Jensen laughs, not fighting Jared. “Hey, if you meet Pearl Jam because of me, we are officially even, right?” 

“Ugh, stop acting chill about the fact that you know Pearl Jam!” Jared replies. “You have any idea what a douche you’d sound like for name-dropping if I wasn’t so impressed?”

“Name-dropping is supposed to make me sound cool,” Jensen reasons. “So if it impressed you, it worked. Ergo, I am not a douche for doing it. I am, however, cool.”

“I think you can be a douche and still impress me,” Jared says contemplatively.

Jensen glances over at him for a long while, like he’s not sure whether he should say what he’s thinking, but unsurprisingly, he decides to err on the side of putting his foot in his mouth. “Based on what you’ve told me about your last boyfriend, that’s true.”

Before Jared has a chance to decide if that pisses him off or not, Chad appears out of nowhere, grabbing a can of Bud from the cooler and dripping both pool and ice water all over Jensen as he throws his arm around him like they’re old friends.

“You talking shit about Amell?” Chad asks. He holds his hand over Jensen’s head and starts pointing down as he yells to the party. “This is my boy right here. He’s talking shit about Amell!”

Some of Jared’s friends start cheering while the rest of them ignore Chad, as most people tend to do once they’ve spent any amount of time around him.

“Fuck that guy,” Chad says emphatically, breathing into Jensen’s face. “You know? You’re not so bad, actually. Despite that song last year they wouldn’t stop playing on the radio. Man, your stuff is _awful_.”

“Okay, Chad. Why don’t you leave Jensen alone now?” Jared suggests, trying to dislodge his friend from Jensen’s side.

“But all the girls at this party already rejected me ten years ago,” Chad complains. “He’s the prettiest person left who hasn’t!”

Jensen makes a face that says it all, and Chad sighs. “Alright, now he has. Don’t worry, dude. I’m not into dick. And if I was, I wouldn’t hit on you for real. Bro code. Jared has dibs.”

“Oh my god,” Jared says, taking a page out of Tom’s playbook and covering his face with his hands, wishing it could make him disappear. “Chad, please go.”

Chad sends him a betrayed look until Jared hands him the platter of burgers and hotdogs he’d been grilling and Chad nods, acknowledging that the offering is sufficient to get rid of him. Unfortunately, losing Chad doesn’t buy Jared much peace, because Chris almost immediately takes his place.

Well, at least he doesn’t drape himself over Jensen.

“It’s true, as much as I hate to admit that guy’s right about anything. This boy was crazy about you back in the old days,” Chris says, smiling in his pinched way as he hitches his thumb over at Jared. “We had to put a ban on your music. The entire city of San Antonio did. No one could stand to hear it anymore after how much he played those first few albums. And they were pretty good, too. If you’re gonna listen to something that isn’t country. Which, why would you?”

“He’s exaggerating,” Jared tells Jensen before turning to face Chris. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chris says, but he winks over at Jensen. Then he gestures to where the stage is set up and asks, “You wanna play with us? I hear you know a thing or two about holding a guitar.”

Despite his discomfort when Jared’s friends first started to arrive, Jensen replies with an easy smile, looking over to the band before checking in with Jared to make sure he doesn’t mind. Jared gives him a small nod and Jensen claps Chris on the back as they start moving across the party. The last thing he hears is, “You know anything about country at all, city boy?” and Jensen’s answering, “I’m from Texas, too. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

He watches them leave before turning off the grill as he finishes his drink, grabbing a couple more beers to enjoy during the show, and moves slowly in the same direction everyone else is. Jared finds himself standing next to Danneel as Chris starts the show.

They listen attentively for the first few verses until Danneel leans in. “Things seem pretty different with you and Jensen.”

Jared briefly considers how to respond to that, whether he should tell her about what happened last night and how it seems to have changed Jensen's opinion of him. He doesn't owe Jensen his silence, especially not when it comes to Danneel, who deserves an explanation for why Jared is suddenly on okay terms with someone who mistreated her just a few days ago. But he holds his tongue anyway, knowing that he wouldn't want the story shared if someone had seen him in the state Jensen was in.

Besides, he kind of doesn't want to stick it to Jensen anymore. Now that she's pointed it out, when Jared thinks back on the day, the dynamic between him and Jensen definitely did change, not only from when Danneel last saw them, but even from morning to now. The fight they had after Jensen made him breakfast notwithstanding, he’s almost enjoyed Jensen’s company. Their run had been full of Jared pointing out places he’d played growing up and good-natured ribbing about who was going to get tired first, things had been quiet and comfortable between them after they got back, and even here at the party, where Jensen would potentially have the most temptation to cause problems again, he’s certainly calmed down.

Even their argument, as ugly and personal as it had gotten, had felt like Jensen cared enough to be honest, not like he was still saying whatever nasty comment came to mind first to deliberately piss Jared off.

He glances over at his friend, guessing where she’s going to lead this, and does his best to be encouraging, because maybe Jensen will do right by her this time.

“It’s the first day since he got here that he’s acted like a human being,” Jared tells her. “You should give him another chance.”

She laughs. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Ah, come on,” he says, nudging her. “Do it for our teenage selves. They would never forgive you if they knew you had a chance with _Jensen Ackles_ and decided to choose self-respect instead.”

“I bumped into him earlier, on the way to the bathroom,” she says. “He apologized for how he behaved the other night.”

“Yeah?” Jared smiles. “See?”

“He was perfectly polite, and I made it clear I was over it,” she tells him. “Like, _abundantly clear_.”

“Oh, I get it.” Jared waggles his eyebrows at her. “So you already did right by high school Danneel. Tell me it wasn’t in my room, that’s all I ask. Even if it was. Lie to me.”

She shakes her head. “He turned me down. Super gently. I didn’t even realize I’d been rejected until he was out the door and halfway back to your side. But he was definitely not interested.”

“Why would he not be interested?” Jared asks, turning to look her over. “You’re seriously hot tonight.”

“I know,” she agrees, sticking her tongue out when Jared rolls his eyes. Then she says something really wild. “I think he’s into _you_.”

“Me?” Jared asks, throwing his head back as he laughs. “He’s not queer. Hell, the guy’s practically a homophobe. He won’t even stand in the same room as me because he thinks I’ll try to jump his bones.”

“Or it’s the other way around,” she insists. “He’s worried _he’ll_ try to jump _your_ bones.”

“If he wanted to be anywhere near me, he had plenty of chances. Maybe he’s avoiding you because he's afraid of doing anything he thinks might get him in trouble. Want me to talk to him? Give him the green light to hit on you again?”

“You haven’t noticed that he’s spent every moment of this party either next to you or scrambling to get back next to you?”

“I’m the only person here he knows,” Jared reminds her. “He’s just slightly more comfortable with me because of that.”

Danneel snorts. “That’s always the first thing people say about him, is how shy he is in new company.”

“Maybe the tabloids don’t get him,” Jared suggests, not realizing he feels that might be the case until he hears how emphatically he says it. “I don’t know. I thought he _was_ what all those gossip blogs say he is, but today he was someone else. He seemed genuine.”

“If you think about it, the other night, when he was such a dick to me, he just wanted to spend more time at that bar listening to music with you. Maybe he was deliberately trying to get rid of me. Oh my god, I was totally a third wheel the whole time and no one told me!”

“Sometimes a cigar is a cigar,” Jared tells her. “And a jerk is a jerk.”

“But you said yourself he’s not really a jerk.” Danneel raises an eyebrow at Jared and gives him a devilish look. “Come on, Jared. Do it for high school you. He’d never forgive you if he knew you had a chance with _Jensen Ackles_ and chose believing the guy was straight instead.”

Jared laughs as he bumps her side with his own. “Don’t use my words against me. I’m not going to risk making him hostile again just when he’s finally started to chill out.”

“I think it’s what he wants you to do.” Her voice turns sing-songy as she teases, “Jensen Ackles has a crush on you.”

“Based on what?” Jared asks. “The fact that he’s scared I’ll fuck up his career if he doesn’t pretend he can stand me?”

“Jared, he keeps nervously glancing over here. Like he’s worried to screw up in front of your friends. Look, it’s _adorable_.”

Sure enough, when he checks where she’s pointing, Jensen is standing to the left of the band, anxiously moving from one foot to the other as he holds Chris’s spare guitar, and every few moments his eyes find Jared’s. He waves with his free hand when he sees Jared looking and gives him a tight smile.

“He probably hasn’t played a show sober in a long time.” Jared frowns, wondering too late if he should have made more of an effort to be sure Jensen was okay with Chris’s offer. “Even a little crowd like this could be intimidating if you’re used to depending on uppers and liquid courage.”

“And yet he wanted to perform,” Danneel says. “Hmm.”

Jared ignores her, because he’s got no delusions she’s on the right track, and listens to his friends play a few of their songs before they let Jensen step in. He sings some covers and does one surprisingly good duet with Chris before moving to the side, watching the guys as they finish out the rest of their set.

It would be lying to say Jared pays more attention to Chris and the performance his band gives of songs he’s heard them play a million times than to observing Jensen as he listens intently, his eyes moving over each musician. Jared picks up on something he mostly missed the first night Jensen was with him, which is that he’s analytical about music, tracking technique and breaking the performance out into parts to better appreciate the whole. He sees it clearly on Jensen’s face when he’s impressed by a particularly skilled feat of musicianship, just as he notices subtle tics when someone drops notes or sounds off. For all Jensen’s checked out of making music for the last few years, it’s clear he still knows his shit and has a passion for it.

To Jared’s relief, Jensen doesn’t try to lord that over anyone or embarrass his friends by calling out their imperfections, the way he had to that band at the bar. He seems to enjoy the show for what it is and, after a few songs, comes to stand silently next to Jared and Danneel, fading into the back of the group to enjoy the music out of the spotlight.

The night winds down after the concert ends, and it doesn’t take long for Jared’s friends to clear out. Everyone’s always happy to stay to wreck the place, but no one lingers once Jared starts bringing out the trash bags. As usual, his backyard, the gem of his property, where the little money he’s had to put into this house since he inherited it has all gone, looks like a warzone now that his friends are done with it.

“Place your bets,” Jared says, covering a yawn with one hand as he scans the area to try to figure out where to even begin undoing the chaos. “Will I be done cleaning before the sun comes up?”

“I can’t believe how fast they disappeared,” Jensen says, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“How do your parties usually end?” Jared asks, glancing up at him from a pile of ketchup-smeared napkins and paper plates. “All the supermodels and Hollywood directors start mopping up their own vomit?”

Jensen looks a little sheepish as he admits, “Not really sure. Most of the time, I pass out where I pass out and by the time I wake up the next day, the staff has come through. They usually just clean around me.”

Jared laughs, then yawns again. “That’s a hilarious visual. Please stop. I’m too tired to be amused.”

"You didn't even make this mess," Jensen complains, grabbing trash off the bar and dumping it into the bag Jared is holding open. "Your friends should be helping."

Jared waves him off. "I told them not to."

"They should have insisted!" Jensen says before correcting himself. "Well, I guess a few of them tried, but you insisted more."

"Yeah, 'cause why ruin a nice night? No one wants their guests' memories of a party to be all the cleaning they had to do at the end. When you host, it comes with the territory."

"That's nice and all, but didn't you say you always host?" When Jared answers with a shrug, Jensen's expression turns upset. "So doesn't that mean you _always_ get stuck doing the work?"

"I wouldn’t call it 'getting stuck.' I don't mind doing it. It's not like I can afford to buy Mike a nice gift for his birthday. But I can throw him a hell of a party."

Jensen is quiet for a long time, touching a spot on the counter that must be pretty sticky, judging by the way he wrinkles his nose at whatever he finds there. He doesn't look at Jared as he says, "You don't have to clean up after people to be near them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jared asks.

"Nothing," Jensen replies. He grabs one of the bottles of disinfectant Jared set out on the bar and begins spraying it down with a vengeance. "Forget I said anything."

Jared stops in the middle of what he's doing and says, "No, seriously. What was that supposed to mean?"

"Your friends like you, Jared." Jensen looks up from scrubbing. "It's nice to do things for them, but you can let them return the favor."

"I like helping people. I like taking care of people. I really do." He turns his attention to a small beer pyramid someone left haphazardly constructed at the edge of the bar. "I know that probably sounds stupid, but it's true."

"It's not stupid," Jensen says immediately. "It's…I wouldn't change that about you. I just don't understand why you seem to think it's all you've got to offer. Your friends wouldn't have asked to stay and clean if it was going to ruin their night somehow. They just wanted to help."

"I don't need help," Jared tells him.

"Right." It's dark, so Jared can't see much, but Jensen manages to express his displeasure so clearly that he can pretty much feel the eye roll. "You're great, everything is going just fine, no one needs to worry about you."

"Don't do this." Jared scrubs a hand over his face to try to wake himself up more. It sucks that, after all the progress they've made since this morning, Jensen apparently wants to end the night right back where they started. "I'm too tired to argue with you. We had a good day, alright? You don't have to clean if it upsets you so much. Just let me do my thing without dissecting all my flaws."

Jensen's voice is very small when he replies, "That isn't what I was trying to do."

Jared dismisses him with a huff. "Well, it's what you're doing."

For a moment, everything is quiet except for the clacking of cans as Jared angrily stacks them in a cardboard box. Then Jensen is suddenly right next to him, reaching out to take it from Jared’s arms. “Why don’t you go to sleep and let me finish this?”

Shaking his head, Jared tries to snatch the box back from Jensen. “Wasn’t your party. Not your friends who made the mess. Why should you have to clean it alone?”

Jensen holds on tight, though, and this time it's Jared who's too weak to match him. “Because I was here, and I enjoyed it, and I haven’t exactly been pulling my weight since I arrived.”

“You made breakfast,” Jared reminds him, forcing a smile as he sets the box of cans by the trash and grabs a nearby empty box for the bottles. "Look, I'm not mad. You're right. I was just being crabby because I'm tired and I'm—"

“You’re buzzed,” Jensen points out. “I’m neither of those things. Just like you, I want to help. You spent the whole night looking out for people and did this great thing for your friend’s birthday. There’s no reason you should have to clean up, too.”

Jared stumbles a little as he tries to grab too many cans off the ground at once. "How many times do I have to tell you—?"

"You can smile at your friends and tell yourself you're happy to do it all you want, but I saw the look on your face when you realized how long you'd have to be at this. You're wiped." Jared opens his mouth to defend himself, but Jensen nips it in the bud. "I'm not looking to insult you. You're tired and cranky and you don't feel like cleaning up. That's human. There's absolutely no need to be a martyr over this. You don't want to clean and there's someone here perfectly willing to do it for you. Put me to work and let yourself have a break for a change."

Every rebuttal Jared wants to make to Jensen's arguments only seems to reinforce what Jensen is saying, and Jared finds himself frustrated by the possibility that it might be because Jensen _isn't_ just trying to be an asshole, and he _might actually have a point_.

But there is still one solid reason he can't do what Jensen is telling him to. It's not exactly something he was eager to bring up.

Jared sighs, looking away from Jensen because he feels a little bad saying this. “Look, even if I wanted to go to bed and leave you to deal with this…there’s a lot of bottles and cans out here that still have booze in them. You shouldn't be unsupervised. I have to be sure it all ends up dumped and not consumed.”

“You think that’s why I’m offering?” Jensen asks. Jared notices another one of those slight winces Jensen did whenever someone played a particularly bad string of notes, but his expression is neutral almost immediately. “I don’t blame you for thinking that. I won’t pretend I don’t deserve it. But I want you to trust me. I want to show you that you can trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jared says. “I wish I could, but if something happens, I’m not going to forgive myself. And I don’t think I’ll be able to get much rest anyway if I’m worried you’re drinking for the second time since you got here.”

“Finish clearing out the alcohol,” Jensen instructs. “Take all the bottles and cans out front to the recycling and leave the rest to me. That’s a fair deal, right?”

Jared thinks it over, can’t see what harm it’ll do, and he really is exhausted. So he does as Jensen orders, gathering what’s left of the beer and tossing it before shuffling to bed and falling asleep almost immediately, still wearing the clothes he’s been in since he and Jensen got back from their run.


	5. Day Five

Jared isn’t sure what he expects to wake up to the next morning, but when he goes to inspect the damage, he finds the house nicer than it had been before people started arriving yesterday. He hadn’t asked Jensen to clean inside at all, so he lets himself out to check the backyard and finds more than one surprise.

First of all, the yard looks immaculate. Jared can’t find a single shred of evidence from last night’s carnage, not even so much as a deck chair turned in the wrong direction.

Second, there’s a rock star floating in his pool, shirtless and freckled and looking like the crisis of Jared’s entire sexual awakening neatly condensed into one person.

“You know what this reminds me of?” he asks without preamble, which causes Jensen, who was apparently oblivious to his presence, to jolt a bit on the lime green doughnut he was dozing off in, making him sit up and grab the sides to steady himself before he falls over into the water. “When my parents left for the weekend while I was in high school and were impressed with how nice the house looked by the time they got home. Of course it was only so clean because my brother and I had spent the entire last day stress cleaning to be sure they wouldn’t find a new stain on the carpet and realize we had a party.”

“Are you the parents or the delinquent teenagers in this scenario?” Jensen asks, lifting his sunglasses to look up at Jared. “Because if I recall correctly, you’re the one who passed out and left me to work myself to exhaustion fixing the mess y’all made.”

“Oh, is that how it went?” Jared asks, rolling his eyes. “I must have been drunker than I thought, because I remember you basically ordering me not to help.”

“I’d be amazed if you remembered anything!” Jensen declares. “You were a disaster. Breakdancing to country music, square dancing to rap, singing a karaoke rendition of the Jingle for Goldfish. It was beautiful, though. Really. Not a dry eye in the crowd.”

Jared laughs, dipping his foot in the pool to kick water up at Jensen. “Shut up, I had like four beers.”

Jensen tries to shield himself from the attack but ends up soaked, scowling as if he thought he could stay dry in the middle of a pool. “It’s sad, honestly. I know my tolerance is a bit skewed from all the years of partying, but a guy your size making a scene like that after only four beers?”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jared says, shaking his head. “Everyone knows I can’t sing.”

“You can when you’re drunk, apparently,” Jensen argues. “Can’t dance for shit, though.”

“Well, that much at least is true.” Jared lowers himself to sit at the edge of the pool, sinking his legs in up to the knee. He’s not sure he wants to get in, but he’s finding it oddly nice, seeing Jensen appear to be at peace out here. “Kidding aside, you didn’t have to do so much. I would have dealt with the rest of the mess today if you’d just cleared the immediate stuff. I stuck my head in the hallway bathroom expecting it to be half full of vomit and it’s never smelled so fresh in all the times I’ve been in there.”

“I have standards,” Jensen says, sticking his nose up prissily. “You’ve got your nice little en suite no one went into. The one everyone threw up in is my bathroom for the next few days. It’s in my best interest to keep it sanitary.”

“You don’t sound very rock and roll right now,” Jared teases. Then he gets more serious, says, “I’m sorry again about the party and not warning you and kind of being an asshole when you were just trying to be considerate.”

"Please, if we start apologizing for everything we did when we were irritable from tiredness or wanting a hit or just not being a very pleasant person to begin with, I'll be talking all day."

Jared frowns. "I just had a lot of fun with you yesterday, and I hope I didn't mess up—"

“It was a nice night, Jared,” Jensen says softly. He turns his float, which has been spinning in slow circles, the rest of the way so that he’s facing Jared and smiles almost shyly. “I really liked your friends and, um. It felt. Kind of…”

Jared watches Jensen start to turn pink, pinker then he already was sitting out in the sun, and he can’t help pushing. “Kind of?”

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Jensen says.

“What could you possibly say that would sound stupid to me after you supposedly saw me breakdancing to country music?”

Jensen snorts. Then he says, “It felt like being a person for a few hours.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jared asks, “And what do you usually feel like, a gumball machine?”

“A celebrity,” Jensen says simply. “A rock star. Someone people expect to act a certain way. Or want something from. Or made up their mind about years ago. Your friends didn’t do any of those things. They didn’t give a shit who I was as long as I wasn’t blocking the cooler.”

Jared nods, thinking he’s starting to get it, and trying not to let it show that he’s beginning to feel pity for Jensen. Despite everything Jensen has; dumped, unemployed, vaguely depressed Jared actually feels sorry for the guy. Even with the way he behaves and how much of what people assume about him is fueled by Jensen’s own behavior, it still doesn’t feel like Jensen deserves to be treated like that.

He doesn’t have anything to say, so he waits to see if Jensen wants to elaborate more.

Eventually he does, putting his hand in the water and giving himself a good spin so that soon Jared is looking at the back of his head as he continues, “Most of the guys here last night were musicians, but no one tried to slip me a demo CD or asked me to introduce them to my agent. Chris just wanted to be sure I could play well enough not to screw up his set. You’re the only person who wanted to hear about my famous friends—”

“ _Eddie Vedder_ ,” Jared defends. “Only Eddie Vedder. I don’t care that Beyoncé saves you a spot at her Sunday brunch.”

“She does not,” Jensen clarifies. “She thinks I’m basic. Told me so backstage at the last VMAs.”

“Well, you are kind of basic,” Jared agrees, but he immediately regrets it, because Jensen splashes him and unlike Jensen, Jared is still wearing dry clothes.

“You have any idea how much that hurt my feelings?” Jensen says.

“No, how much?” Jared asks as he pulls his now wet shirt off over his head and tosses it aside. 

After a short, awkward silence, Jensen admits, “Not at all, actually, I was preeeeeee-tty high.”

Jared laughs and decides the boxers he has on are old enough that he doesn’t mind risking them in the chlorine, so he slips into the pool, staying under for a moment before surfacing, shaking his hair out so it drips on Jensen.

Jensen hops down from the doughnut and lets his feet touch the pool floor, walking over to Jared. “I was trying to thank you, you know. When you brought up my Beyoncé trauma.”

“Thank me?” Jared laughs it off. “Thank me for what?”

“For letting me be a part of the group like that. I got to enjoy a nice, quiet night.”

“That party was on the more intense end of the scale for us,” Jared jokes. “I kinda resent you calling it quiet.”

Jensen grins. “Believe me, it was a compliment. I didn’t think even once that it would be easier to get through with a drink or some pills. I just had fun. Listening to all y’all mock each other for shit you did years ago. Playing music with some folks who love it as much as I do. Hell, you and I spent most of the night flipping burgers of all things! It’s not…when they told me they were going to send me to live with a fan, I expected to spend this whole time being fawned over and put on display. I never once thought I’d get a chance to feel more _normal_ than I have since—shit, I was a teenager.”

Jared’s not sure how to respond to how big what Jensen is trying to thank him for is, so he decides to just be a smartass instead. “Actually, I did the grilling. You didn’t really help much.”

“And then I cleaned your _entire house_ ,” Jensen reminds him.

“On second thought, I’m cool with saying we split burger duty.” Jared considers Jensen for a moment. “You really didn’t have to do all that just to thank me. You certainly didn’t have to clean the kitchen.”

“I know.” Jensen looks away from him too sharply, but Jared doesn’t know him well enough to read the clench of his jaw until he says, “After I was done out here and in the bathroom, I was just keeping busy.” Jensen licks his lips and still won’t look in Jared’s direction. “I was awake.”

Jared senses that Jensen is uncomfortable with the conversation, and he doesn’t need to make anybody relive withdrawal they’re already struggling through. “Well, now that we’re both awake, we should really decide on what to do today.”

“Aren’t we doing something?” Jensen asks. “I like swimming.”

Jared inclines his head toward the stairs. “Then why don’t we head out to Barton Springs? You can’t come to Austin and not see the springs.”

Jensen hesitates for a moment before admitting, “When I was a kid, I did want to come explore the capital of the fair state of Texas.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks, surprised to hear it. He climbs out of the pool and pulls two towels from the cabinet on the deck, but when he turns to toss one to Jensen, he hasn’t made a move to get out of the pool yet.

“Yeah.” Jensen smirks. “My parents never let me. They said only hippies and sodomites live here.”

It suddenly strikes Jared as weird that he doesn’t know anything about Jensen’s parents. Not that Jensen has been particularly forthcoming about any aspect of his life up until now, but Jared followed him closely for years: clipped all his articles, watched all his interviews. He knew what suburb of Dallas Jensen grew up in and what high school he went to but had maybe assumed people as famous as Jensen just spring from the ground fully formed with guitars in their hands, because parents hadn’t occurred to him. Jensen never thanked them in acceptance speeches or liner notes, but he’d never said anything negative about them, either.

Somehow, the fact that he just brought them up to Jared feels important, but Jared knows he’s not likely to get more than the off-the-cuff mention, so he decides to make a joke of it, doing an over-the-top awkward expression and pointing to himself. “Well, they weren’t wrong exactly.”

Jensen laughs, and he seems to be in a good enough mood that Jared feels emboldened to ask, “What changed?”

“Hmm?” Jensen replies, looking up at him before quickly turning his eyes away, like something he saw upset him.

Jared glances down at himself to make sure his towel is still covering him and there’s nothing gross stuck to the water on his chest, but everything looks fine as far as he can tell.

He carries on the conversation, “What changed to make you go from wanting to see the capital to not visiting the state once in ten years?”

“A lot,” Jensen says. He doesn’t seem angry but it is pretty clear there’s not going to be more forthcoming on the subject.

“Well, you’re here now,” Jared reminds him. “Might as well check it out. Come on, let’s go for a swim and after we can grab some food. I know all the best restaurants. I bet you could skip right to the front of the line at Franklin’s.”

Jensen frowns. “I really don’t want that. If we go to the springs, I’ll be recognized. Can’t exactly swim in a baseball cap or disguise myself in trunks. I’ll spend the whole day taking pictures with strangers. If we go somewhere and the owner recognizes me, pulls us to the front, and makes a big deal out of it, there will be twelve articles about what an entitled, line-skipping asshole I am by tomorrow. I just want to have a nice, normal day, like yesterday.”

“And you think we can only do that if you hide on my property?”

“It’s not ego, man. I can’t do anything in public without getting mobbed and it, uh.” Jensen shrugs, looking away from Jared like he’s embarrassed. “It’s harder to manage that kind of attention, for me, if I’m sober. It feels great when I’m not. I don’t want to walk into a situation I know I’ll fuck up.”

Jared thinks for a moment about how big of an admission that was. After all, to Jensen, Jared is still a relative stranger, and yet he’s had to live under Jared’s scrutiny for five days now. It can’t be easy to admit weakness in circumstances like these, and the fact that Jensen opened up about the threat of relapse _before_ it started, instead of setting Jared up to lead him into trouble like he had the first night, doesn’t go unnoticed.

It doesn’t feel right to reward that behavior by allowing Jensen to continue to rot here for the rest of his visit.

“What if I told you I was confident we could go out and not be spotted?” Jared offers. “Would you trust me to try that? And if it goes wrong, if just one person bothers you, we turn around immediately and come back here, and I won’t ask again.”

Jensen hesitates, obviously not convinced Jared can keep his promise, so Jared holds a hand down to pull him out of the pool. “Don’t you trust me?”

“What is this, Aladdin?” Jensen waits a beat longer before sighing and accepting Jared’s help. “Fine, screw it. _One person_ , though.”

It takes just under an hour to get dressed and reach the springs, and that includes about seven minutes of back-and-forth when Jared revealed his brilliant plan. Jensen said he wouldn’t do it, Jared reminded him that he’d already agreed and, well. Here they are now, standing at the entry window.

Jared visits Barton Springs about three times a week, so he knows Briana, who works at the booth, well enough. He smiles with extra dimples today as he slides his pass across to her, gesturing to Jensen behind him. “Got a friend with me today.”

Briana hardly glances at Jensen before saying, “He a resident?”

Hitching a thumb at Jensen, who waves awkwardly when she looks back at him again, Jared asks, “Does he look like a resident?”

She pays more attention to Jensen this time, and the effort she’s making not to laugh becomes clear as her eyes move from the orange swim cap and dark blue scuba mask hugging Jensen’s face down to the Handlebar t shirt, flamingo shorts, and pink flippers he’s wearing.

“Well, he’s certainly keeping it weird,” she says. “That’s good enough for me.”

Jared slides a few dollars over to pay for Jensen’s entry and winks at her as he listens to the slapslapslap of Jensen following behind him.

“This is humiliating,” Jensen informs him.

“Just keeping you humble,” Jared says, grinning at the sour face Jensen is making through his disguise. “You gotta admit, no one is going to think you’re secretly hot under there.”

The mask was Aunt Dee’s, so it’s a little tight on Jensen’s face. The nose part is pinching him, and it makes everything he says comically nasal. “I hate you.” 

Jared laughs at him as he drops his towel in the first decently shaded spot that isn’t already taken. “If I wasn’t such a good guy, I could take a video of this and sell it for enough to retire in Boca Raton before I turn 30.” 

“I’m ditching the flippers,” Jensen says sourly, kicking them off onto Jared’s towel. “No one is gonna recognize my feet.”

“Statistically speaking, you definitely have fans with a foot fetish.”

The way Jensen’s head moves, Jared is pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes in there. “The chances of one of them being here today are not so good.”

“Can’t be too careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

Ignoring him, Jensen walks off, heading straight for the water. Jared considers telling him what he’s in for, but since Jensen didn’t wait to hear his warning, he decides to let him figure this one out on his own.

Jared walks to the edge of the pool and stops as Jensen jumps right in. He only has to wait a few moments before Jensen surfaces, screaming, “Fuck!”

“Oh by the way, it’s gonna be really cold,” Jared tells him.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Jensen says. “Holy shit, I’m dying. Oh my god. Fuck!”

Jared sits and sticks his legs in, waiting for them to at least somewhat adjust. “It feels warmer in the winter. Same temperature all year round. Isn’t that cool?”

“Cool,” Jensen tells him, flailing to move the snorkel away from his mouth and grab onto the stone edge, “is a bad thing. I am dying. I am the guy in Titanic. I’m going to turn blue and sink and die.”

“I’d say you’ll get used to it but you won’t really.” Jared grins down at him. “You’ll just go numb. Then it’ll feel tingly.”

“Okay, why did you not tell me any of this _before_ I got in?”

Jared holds both his hands up in an exaggerated shrug, and Jensen seizes forward, grabbing him by the legs to pull him in.

Jensen complains about how cold he is through the next three hours, but he also refuses to leave every time Jared offers, so Jared decides maybe that’s just how Jensen expresses that he’s enjoying himself.

For a while they race, Jared beating Jensen by lengths, which is a nice reversal after Jensen so handily outran him yesterday. They stay active to keep the water temperature comfortable and by the time Jensen has finally gotten his fill of swimming, Jared is starving, so they change and head out for dinner.

“It’s not much,” Jared warns Jensen as they approach Smith and Wesson’s, a small diner nestled in the quiet suburb Jared lives in. “The food isn’t great, but I’ve been eating here with Aunt Dee since I was a baby when we came up to visit her, so the owner loves me. We _will_ be getting free milkshakes.”

Jensen eyes the restaurant suspiciously as they get out of Jared’s car and he puts on his baseball cap and sunglasses. Then he translates what Jared _didn't_ say, “You didn’t want to take me somewhere downtown, figured the chances of being noticed here were lower.”

Jared blushes at his clumsy attempt at subtlety but nods. “That, too.”

To his surprise, Jensen slants a warm smile over at him. Jared can’t see his eyes, but the way his crow’s feet cut into his face tells him that they’re soft, too. “You don’t have to make up excuses for helping me out like that.”

He shrugs. “I was trying to go along with the pretending you were normal thing.”

“You’re the abnormal one,” Jensen says, shoving Jared’s side playfully, and it lightens the moment but doesn’t quite undo how grateful Jensen had looked. Jared is still smiling as he opens the door, waiting for Jensen to enter before following him.

“You!” Sam yells as soon as she sees Jared. “I haven’t seen you in months. Who do you think you are, disappearing on me like that?”

By now, she’s at the host stand, grabbing two menus with one hand and putting her other on her hip, giving Jared a stern glance. She’s twice Jared’s age and roughly half his size, but somehow still manages to intimidate.

“Sorry, Mrs. Smith,” Jared tells her, wrapping her in a hug before accepting the menus and passing one to Jensen. “Been busy.”

“I’ll bet. Been so busy you forgot how many times I’ve told you not to call me that,” she says as she starts leading them to a booth, but when she stops at their table, her expression has changed to something much kinder. “Listen, I heard about your aunt. I’m so sorry. Dee was a hell of a crazy broad. We always enjoyed when she came around.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “I know she loved it here, too. Honestly, been staying away from places that make me think of her too much, but I had a real craving for some sweets today.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says, rolling her eyes. “I see what you’re after.”

Jared makes an innocent face and she huffs, looking over to Jensen. “You’re not the boyfriend.”

“He and I broke up,” Jared tells her.

“Good.” Sam pats him on the arm. “Never liked that one. Too square. Can’t trust a face like that. This one has that jaw you like, too, huh?”

As soon as she starts focusing more on Jensen’s face, her eyes go round, and Jared can tell from the way Jensen’s body becomes rigid that he knows she’s recognized him. He bites his lip, thinking there goes dinner, and their whole nice day on top of it.

“Hey, aren’t you—?” Jared does as much as he can to get the situation under control without just drawing more attention, which is to catch Sam’s eye when she glances over to check with him, like she wants confirmation that this is actually Jensen Ackles standing in front of her. He does a nearly imperceptible shake of the head, and to his enormous relief, Sam’s face changes fast as a shot and she turns back to Jensen. “Aren’t you a little too handsome for this big oaf?”

Jensen’s shoulders drop and his chest catches, and the laugh he lets out is more relief than actual amusement, but that he appreciates the discretion is clear.

“He’s just a friend,” Jared tells Sam, shooing her as he takes a seat. “Stop embarrassing me.”

At the same time, Jensen jokes, “If anything he’s too handsome for me, ma’am.”

“This one I like.” She grins at Jensen and ruffles Jared’s hair. “Y’all decide what you want. I’ll get Jim started on your milkshakes.”

They both smile at her as she takes her leave, and then Jensen tsks at him. "You shouldn't lie to people."

"When'd I lie?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"You told her I was your friend," says Jensen.

Frowning, Jared asks, "Are we not friends?"

"I don't count people I have to bribe to keep me around as friends, no." Jensen laughs to himself, then adds, "Which I guess means I have, like, one friend total."

"Oh, come on." Jared tries for a joke. "'This is the rock star that I keep locked in my guest room but who I occasionally let out to feed him' would have taken too long to say and would have totally blown your cover."

"Would have been honest, at least," Jensen replies, shrugging.

"Why are you making this a thing?" Jared asks as his eyebrows draw together. "I was trying to make it clear we weren't dating. I thought you would want that."

Jensen sits across from him with almost no expression on his face and, honestly, Jared can't figure this guy out for the life of him. Every time he thinks they've got a good dynamic going, somehow Jensen gets upset again or starts picking at Jared's shortcomings.

And as stupid as it is, he's kind of hurt. It hadn't really occurred to him that calling Jensen his friend would still be a controversial statement at this point. In fact, Jared had even been under the delusion that they were starting to bring out the best in each other. If that's not what friends do, he thinks it should be.

"I want…" Fidgeting in the booth across from him, Jensen admits, "I wish I believed we were friends. I wish I hadn't made you hate me."

"Hate you?" Jared tries to get Jensen to look up at him. "I never hated you. I certainly wasn't a fan of the person you were acting like, but I don't think that was you."

"If I'm not the sum of my actions, then who am I?" Jensen lifts his eyes, hopeful, like he actually thinks Jared's going to have an answer.

He laughs. "That's a little above my paygrade. Which, I'll remind you, is nothing because I don't have a job. Aim lower. Ask me what my favorite root vegetable is or something."

"Getting paid pretty okay to put up with me," Jensen responds.

"Well, thank you for your interest, Jensen," Jared says. "It's a rutabaga."

"I'm just saying…I'm not one of those celebrities who needs to be adored by everyone. I know I'm not. You don't have to pretend to like me."

"Keep the money, then," Jared says, even as he can feel half of his brain wrestling to get control back from the side of it that's currently speaking. "You don't have to send me that $50,000. I'm glad you stuck around. I'm having fun."

"I'm gonna pay you," Jensen promises. "I'm a man of my word when I have my shit together enough to remember what I said."

Jared picks up his menu and looks it over briefly, mostly to keep busy since he's been getting the same thing here since he still had his baby teeth. "I don't even get where this conversation is coming from. You're having a good time, aren’t you?"

"Yeah, it just sucks to remember you're not. I forget you're pretending sometimes. All day I didn't even question that you wanted me around until you said that to Sam and it rang so damn hollow." Jensen drums his fingers on the table. "I get that you're nice and that's, like, part of your whole thing. But you don't have to force it." 

"It's a dick move to say I'm only kind to folks when I want their money," Jared informs him. "Is not being nice, like, part of your 'whole thing?'"

"No, that comes naturally to me," Jensen tells him.

"I'm not doing anything that doesn't come natural to me," Jared assures him. "If you feel like I'm enjoying your company, why doubt it?"

Jensen doesn't say anything, and Jared watches him for a long moment before he realizes that for all their differences, they’re both kind of pitiful in the same way. And suddenly he gets why Jensen was so adamant about Jared not needing to clean up last night.

"You think that's all you have to offer, huh?" Jared asks. "Money or fame, or whatever it is the people around you expect. No one would want you around if it were just you."

Jensen looks at him sharply, apparently very betrayed by Jared giving voice to all his worries. "And my very marketable face," he says after a few moments, gesturing at himself playfully but with an undercurrent of defeat. "But for the most part, yeah."

"You told me last night I didn't have to earn the right to be around my friends." Jared bites his bottom lip and says, "I think you hit on something there. I do go overboard looking after people. I don't really think I bring a lot else to the table."

"You do," Jensen insists. "You're something special, Jared."

"Well, so are you. You don't have to bribe me to be near you." He thinks of Genevieve's assertion that Jensen is a good guy when he's sober and of Misha flying across the country to convince Jared to give him a chance. "There are people who want to be close to you for the right reasons. You just can't push them away."

"Are you one of those people?" Jensen asks.

"I'd like to be your friend if you'll let me," Jared says.

Jensen puts his hand out on the table, like he's reaching for Jared's, and Jared is so confused trying to guess what he's actually doing that he just sits still and waits to see how it'll play out.

Just then, Sam appears with two milkshakes, setting one in front of Jensen and one down for Jared. She knows him well enough to have brought a chocolate malt, but Jensen's is a safe guess, vanilla, the only color a bright red cherry atop its mini whipped cream mountain.

Maybe Jensen saw her coming, and what Jared nearly mistook for something else was actually him preparing to strike. Jensen's hand is already extended across the table, so he's able to move quickly once the drinks are down. Before Jared gets a chance to take a sip, the chocolate shake slides away from him and gets replaced by a tall glass of bland, white ice cream. Then he watches in horror as Jensen happily takes a long pull from his straw.

"Hey, what the hell," Jared says. "That one's mine."

"Friends share," Jensen tells him, grinning like a coyote.

"I take back everything, I actually deeply dislike you," Jared says, but he gets interrupted by a small puff of whipped cream hitting his cheek and the peal of laughter from the man across the table, a Jensen who seems to have replaced all the insecurities he expressed moments ago with an exceptional talent for aiming while flicking food off his spoon.


	6. Day Six

“This contest is the gift that keeps on giving,” Jared announces the next morning when he hears Jensen padding his way down the hall.

He’s set up on the couch with his computer perched on a pillow over his lap and his feet on the coffee table. Jensen looks the scene over as he reaches the living room and scrubs his hand over his face, seeming to decide he’s not ready to deal with how awake Jared is.

He opens his mouth and Jared cuts him off, answering his question before he can ask it. “Coffee is still fresh, I put your mug out on the counter.”

“Mmm,” Jensen says appreciatively, moving past him at a glacial pace and scratching his ass as he goes.

Jared watches him, laughing a bit at what a caveman the guy is in the morning, and also taking in an eyeful of his ass. Since Jensen is drawing attention to it and all.

“I have an email from Genevieve,” Jared continues.

It’s about twenty seconds before Jensen appears at the wall between the living room and the kitchen and leans against it, apparently unable to hold himself up until he’s sipped his coffee. 

“‘m I in trouble?” he asks groggily.

“No more than usual,” Jared tells him, which makes Jensen relax enough to take a few steps into the room.

He's still not alert enough to check what he's doing, so Jared watches him drop into the nearest chair, immediately jumping up in surprise and nearly spilling his coffee. They both laugh as he sheepishly moves the PlayStation controller he just sat on to the coffee table.

"Must have forgotten to charge that after our tournament last night," Jensen says.

Jared puts on a smug tone as he replies, "Well, you were pretty discouraged when you went to bed. I guess four hours of getting your ass kicked at _Call of Duty_ will make a guy pretty forgetful."

"That's not fair, I've been way too busy the last ten years to get good at video games," Jensen defends, echoing the bickering he and Jared had traded while playing after they got home from their day of swimming and milkshakes.

"Poor little rock star," Jared says with an exaggerated pout. Then he switches back to his original conversation topic, “You remember the ‘special experience’ they promised to film us at?”

“Ugh,” Jensen replies. “Is that today?”

Jared nods in confirmation. “Looks like they booked a studio for us in town so I can go with you and watch you record the first song for your new album.”

“Oh, I’m making a new album, am I?” Jensen asks, blowing on his coffee. “That’s news to me.”

“I’m sure it’s just a bullshit session to make me feel like I got to do something exclusive with you,” Jared guesses. 

“All my sessions are bullshit sessions,” Jensen mutters. “Have you _heard_ the stuff they put my name on these days?”

“I try not to,” Jared admits.

Jensen laughs at that, taking a long sip of his coffee and letting his eyes drop shut as he savors it. 

Jared knows he should just let Jensen have the moment, but he can’t help asking, “If you know it’s bad, why are you still recording it?”

Jensen opens one eye and peers at Jared. He doesn’t answer except with a shrug.

“You were great,” Jared tells him.

This time Jensen opens both his eyes and looks at Jared for a long moment before biting his lip and whatever he’s thinking, he dismisses it with a shake of his head, looking away from Jared and out the window to the quiet residential street outside.

“I don’t mean good, Jensen,” Jared continues. “You were great. Those first four CDs? I still get chills when I listen to them.”

“What time is this studio thing?” Jensen asks, trying to change the subject. “Should I be dressed? Are they sending a car?”

“Even _Nihilism_ wasn’t bad,” Jared says. “The three songs that you wrote were solid. Most of the rest of them were at least decent.”

“Yeah, I still had lapses of sobriety where I was clear enough to reject the really awful shit back then,” Jensen replies. “What do you want me to tell you? That I lost my drive like every other washed up loser in the business? That I got too damn high to hold my guitar, let alone string together notes. That I just stopped fucking caring, as long as the money was still coming in and the parties were loud. Why don’t you let it go?”

“Why wouldn’t you stop pushing me about my ex the other day?” Jared asks. “Believe it or not, I care.”

“Neither of us is a licensed mental health professional,” Jensen points out.

Jared laughs. “That didn’t stop you two days ago. And I took a course freshman year, so I’m more qualified than you are.”

Jensen sets his empty coffee mug on the table in front of him and sits back in the armchair, threading his hands together. “I know you want me to give you a reason, Jared. All my fans do. You loved my music and I betrayed you and I don’t know what to fucking tell you, okay? I don’t have a good excuse. I got famous. I started drinking. One day I was too drunk to turn the party favors down and before I knew it that was all that mattered. I love—loved making music. I sold my soul to do it and then I couldn’t…” Jensen swallows like there’s something toxic caught in his throat and he’s worried it’ll spill out. 

Jared thinks it over, remembering what Misha had said the other day. That Jensen’s addictions were a response to his problems, not the root cause of them, and something still mysterious to Misha set them off. He knows he has no right to this kind of information, especially not if Jensen wouldn’t even share it with his sponsor, who he’s known and depended on for years. 

But if understanding might help…

“What does that mean?” he asks. “You sold your soul to make music? What did you have to do?”

“Doesn’t matter,” says Jensen. “Past is the past.”

“It’s not, though.” Jared gestures at him. “It’s obviously still bothering you. Wouldn’t you rather deal with it and move on than treat yourself like this?”

“I get the treatment I deserve,” Jensen tells him. “I’m just a burnout with a pretty enough face to still make headlines. There’s nothing more to it. You don’t have to waste your time or energy pretending I can get better one day and go back to writing things that matter. By this time next week, I’ll probably be drowning in pills and gin and you’ll be able to use your treadmill without having to tiptoe around me.”

“You deserve more than that,” Jared says softly. “You’re not a bad person, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself you are. You’re not a problem I can’t wait to get rid of, even if I made you feel like you were those first few days. And your music? _Your_ music…I think it might have saved my life.”

Jensen laughs like Jared is just being dramatic, but Jared catches his eye and refuses to let Jensen look away. “I mean that. That you loved your music is obvious. No one writes something like _Swan Song_ when they’re sixteen years old by accident.”

For a beat, Jensen is quiet. Contemplative. “That album nearly killed me. I put everything into it.”

“I know,” Jared says. “That’s why the rest of us got so much out of it.”

Jared is a little surprised that when he finally decides to say something else, there’s a smile, tiny and barely there but there nonetheless, at the corner of Jensen’s lips. “I was so damn young and dumb back then. And in love.”

He feels his eyebrows draw together. “In love?”

Jensen bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back a grin. “With my guitar. With writing lyrics down as soon as they popped into my head. With creating. Now that was a high.”

Every now and again, Jared has noticed that Jensen’s hands tremble. Usually it’s when he’s distracted or the times they’ve talked about his addictions, which makes sense. He learned enough before he dropped out of school to recognize an addict with a craving. They’re shaking now, and for the first time, Jensen catches him looking. He tries to shove them out of view, sits on them, like he’s ashamed.

Jared thinks maybe he _should_ let this drop after all. He wanted to help, but if pushing Jensen to talk is just making him want to use, it might be smarter to leave this to the professionals, even if Jensen probably won’t actually talk to one.

“Shit, I wish I’d thought to bring a guitar with me,” Jensen murmurs. “Maybe they’ll let me borrow one from the studio. Closest thing I can get to a fix without relapsing.”

There’s a solution to this problem, but Jared feels his cheeks burn at the thought of bringing it up.

“I have one,” he admits. Jensen’s eyes jump up to his, shining with excitement, and Jared adds, “If I bring it out here for you to use, you have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“Make fun of you?” Jensen asks. “Why, is it old? Cheap? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. I’ll show you, a good tuning in the right hands and you can’t tell.”

“It’s not cheap,” Jared says. “It is old. Promise you won’t make fun.”

“I promise.” Jensen has a bemused smile on his face as he watches Jared stand. “You’ve got me more curious than anything now.”

It takes some rummaging around in his closet—Jared shoved this to the back when he moved into the master bedroom and hasn’t thought of it since—but he finds the old beat up case and carries it to the living room, setting it down on the table in front of Jensen. Then he takes a seat on the couch and hides his face, not wanting to see Jensen’s response once he realizes just how deep Jared’s teenage obsession went.

He hears the case open and the rustling as Jensen lifts the instrument out of it, but then there’s quiet, no laughter but no music either, and Jared can’t help his curiosity. He lowers his hands and looks over to catch Jensen’s reaction.

Jensen is tracing his fingers over the swirling lines of an autograph signed into the waxed wood surface a decade and a half ago.

“You probably don’t remember,” Jared says, feeling like he needs to explain. “Your second CD tour, back when you still made stops in Texas. The show was three days before my birthday, and a small crowd of us waited an hour in the rain to see if you would come out to talk to us. You did. You were nice to me. I was just some dopey kid and while you were signing I said I wanted to be like you someday, and you told me I could be anything, but to never want to be anyone but myself. I know you probably were trained by some publicist to say that shit to everyone, but damn did it feel profound at the time.”

Jensen’s expression is impossible to gauge. He keeps his gaze on the guitar and off of Jared. “Of course I remember.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Jared rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man. You must have met two hundred fans just that night, why would you rememb—?”

“You were with an older boy. I’m guessing your brother. He was not so happy to be there.”

Jared’s mouth drops open, and he’s struck dumb, so he nods his head to confirm.

“How could I forget you, kid?” Jensen asks, strumming his fingers through the chords. Still not sparing a glance for Jared. “You sure got tall since then.”

“I wasn’t just blowing smoke earlier. When I was a teenager, your music helped me understand things about myself that I didn’t even know how to talk about. I’m not saying those albums were about coming out. I know you’re not gay, okay? But that’s what they were about for me. And I heard them exactly when I needed them. They meant everything. You…you meant something, because I felt like you understood things about me I didn’t yet. And you gave me the language I needed to tell my family and friends who I was.”

Jensen reacts like Jared just hit him, recoiling and looking up at the ceiling. His voice is flat and thin when he finally collects himself enough to say, “I wish someone else had won that stupid contest. Anyone in the world except for you.”

Jared thought he had a handle on being let down by Jensen Ackles, but this hits on a whole new level. He was starting to believe there was more to Jensen. He even believed they were becoming friends. He thought this, at least, was sacred, that there was no way to reach so far back into the past and crush that one, special memory Jared had of him.

He can’t help lashing out. “Is it that horrible to know that your music helped a scared kid love himself? Do you really hate gay people so much that you’re actually upset about it?”

Jensen seems confused by Jared’s anger. He lowers his eyes, and there's so much raw emotion in them, unexpected and unexplained, that Jared kind of wishes he would look away again. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just wish there could be one person in the world who thinks of me—my music—like that. Instead now you know what a disaster I am. And that’s all I’ll ever be to you. My music won’t mean anything special anymore. If someone else had won, you could still have that. I could still have that.”

“We can still have this.” Jared smiles at him and nudges the guitar. “You gonna play something for me, or just sit there hugging it all day?”

The gratitude in the look Jensen gives Jared is downright puzzling, like Jared just offered him a kidney instead of asking him for a song. He pauses to think, then smiles as he begins to play the first few bars of _Black_.

Jared watches Jensen’s hands as he moves over the chords with skill Jared’s never seen in person before, surprised by how quickly the fix worked its magic. Jensen may have tremors when he’s waiting for a hit, but his hands are steady on the chords. He’s shakier on the singing, voice the same heavy rumble Jared, as an awkward, skinny, confused tween fell in love with, but he’s not as sure of the lyrics and laughs at himself whenever Jared corrects him.

When he finishes, he shrugs off Jared’s applause and then holds the instrument out. “You play at all?”

Jared shakes his head, waving the guitar away. “I noodle at best.”

“Show me,” Jensen insists.

“No, god, are you joking?” Jared gestures at Jensen. “After you just did _that_? No way.”

“You owe me a song, man.” Jensen stands up and moves to sit next to Jared on the couch, and this time when he hands the instrument over to Jared, Jared is too thrown by how close he’s gotten to remember not to take it. “I can give you pointers, if you want.”

“Yeah, okay, but,” Jared blushes, “I only know how to play like three songs and they’re all...”

Instead of explaining, he focuses on the board, taking a long moment to try to remember where exactly he’s supposed to put his fingers, going through all the mnemonic devices he learned out of library books in high school when he thought one day he would be good at this. Back before Jensen stopped being a role model and Jared started promising himself he was going to sell this guitar on eBay and forget he ever listened to the guy.

Finally he’s confident enough of how to start, so he begins playing and almost immediately, Jensen laughs in recognition of _Monster of the Week_ , Jared’s favorite song off Jensen’s third album.

He plays until the first verse, when Jensen starts singing along, which is the single most awesome and surreal thing that has ever happened to Jared. Of course, he gets so in his head about the amazing weirdness of having Jensen Ackles sing along while he plays this song that he totally forgets how to continue, fingers freezing on the board as he chokes.

Jared waits for Jensen to express annoyance that he ruined his song so spectacularly, so he’s completely unprepared when Jensen does the exact opposite.

“That was really good,” he says, leaning closer, until his arms are wrapped around Jared, and Jared realizes maybe this whole thing was the set up to a wet dream, actually.

After a few seconds, his brain catches up enough to realize that Jensen isn’t holding him. He’s reaching across the guitar, changing how Jared’s fingers are angled and where they are, and leaving his hands resting over Jared’s both on the board and on the strings. It's intimate—Jensen is glued to his side with his thigh pressed to Jared’s and his chest reaching across Jared’s back. The touch of their hands alone feels special.

Jensen’s voice when he speaks is soft and encouraging, and his words brush against Jared’s skin just by virtue of how close he’s sitting. “But try it like this.”

He starts again from the beginning, even more nervous, but comforted by the way Jensen guides him, how he silently corrects the mistakes Jared makes. This time, he doesn’t start singing when they reach the verses. Instead he hums gently, the vibrations he creates as he does so seem to sink into Jared, making him feel the song in ways he didn’t even as a hormone-addled, infatuated teenager. 

The silence when they finish is jarring. Jared sits there for a beat, waiting for something to happen, for Jensen to play another song or pull away, but nothing changes, except that Jared realizes how hard his heart is beating. He turns his head to try to see what Jensen’s reaction is and that’s when he finds out how close Jensen really is. He can hardly see Jensen’s face with how near it is, and the expression on it is hard to read from this angle.

What Jared can see is that his eyes are dark, fixed on Jared, and his lips are parted as if he’s just been kissed breathless. The visual makes Jared want to lean in the little bit it would take to be sure that’s how Jensen looks after.

“Was that okay?” Jared asks, making himself tear his eyes from Jensen’s mouth.

Jensen doesn’t let him go but also doesn’t move forward to act on what Jared is suddenly pretty sure they’re both thinking. For a brief moment in time, Danneel’s crazy theory feels right. Maybe this is what Jensen never told Misha, what drove him so far into himself that he forgot how to create. Maybe those first few albums sounded so much like they were about coming out because they _were_.

“Jensen, is this okay?” he asks again, which seems to snap Jensen back into action.

Immediately, he pulls his hands away and moves over on the couch. 

“We should get ready to go to the studio,” Jensen tells him, jumping to his feet and making his way down the hall. “It’ll be really cool. I’ll show you how post-production works. That’s the really complicated part.”

Just like that, Jared is left alone on the couch with a guitar in his lap, and the absurdity of his thinking catches up to him. As if _Jensen Ackles_ was just waiting around for a kiss from _him_.

Having Jensen here isn't as bad as it originally seemed only by grace of the fact that Jensen no longer hates him, and Jared almost destroyed that. For what? The chance at a kiss from his high school crush? As if that's worth losing the remaining $25,000 if Jensen freaks out and calls off the rest of his visit. Jensen isn't the monster Jared took him for; he'll even go as far as to say he enjoys the guy's company. But he doesn't see or even want to fantasize a future with him the way he did as a teen. There's nothing they could do in the next four days that would be worth losing that money for.

So Jared sets the guitar down gingerly on the coffee table and follows Jensen's example, getting ready to go on their prescribed adventure for the day.

The film crew, led once again by Rich, is already waiting when the limousine the record company sent to pick them up pulls into Arlyn Studios. Jensen is a consummate professional the rest of the day, making a great impression on screen and giving Jared fascinating explanations about all the equipment they use. He breaks down each person’s job for Jared as they work from the very start—Jensen is handed a sheet with the words and notes on it and only needs about fifteen minutes to learn what it even sounds like before they start playing—to the completion of the recording process. 

The song, _Devour_ , is, as Jensen predicted, terrible. But it’s nevertheless pretty cool to watch and realize that Jensen knows so much about every aspect of his work, not just the parts that are his responsibility.

Still, the day feels off somehow, weirdly detached after how isolated they’ve been in their little bubble the last few days, and Jensen keeps him at arm’s length, a stark contrast from how comfortably he had fit himself into Jared's space just a few hours earlier. 

It hits Jared around lunch what's bothering him so much, when Jensen pushes the plastic container holding what's left of his salad to the center of the table and compliments the assistant who'd placed their orders for keeping the crew fed. He feels a hot spike of anger that someone else is getting to do that, when Jared alone has been providing for Jensen and netting his thanks for nearly a week. He's gotten used to having all of Jensen's attention, and sharing him with the other musicians and producers and even the intern collecting their garbage makes him jealous. That's when he realizes how lonely he's been the last few months, how good it felt to have someone else near, even on the days he didn't especially like Jensen. Pretty pathetic, but that's not exactly news to Jared.

Towards the end of the day, the cameras and other equipment are packed into their van, and Jared and Jensen are told they can go. He's disappointed when Jensen doesn't take the offer, insisting he wants to stay to see the song through. Jared knows how much Jensen enjoys being around music and can only imagine he's felt suffocated with only him for company, so he smiles and hangs at the back of the room as Jensen continues to talk shop with Lisa Berry, the sound engineer, while she does her thing.

The change in him is instantaneous; even his body language shifts to show how much more comfortable he is with the filming crew gone. More like Jared's Jensen: open and playful and sometimes a little combative when he doesn’t agree with the direction the song is going in, but much more genial than the stiff, mechanical performer he had been in front of the lens. It makes Jared a little sad thinking that his fans will never get to see this person, that Jensen intentionally shuts himself down when more than a few trusted eyes are on him at once. The world gets the asshole rock star Jared met the first night instead of the warm, downright goofy man Jared is starting to grow fond of. He can't fathom why someone would want to make themself look _worse_ in public.

"Alright," Lisa says, rolling her office chair back as she stands. "I think one more beer will see us to the end of this torture. Either of you boys need anything from the kitchen?"

Jensen shakes his head as he huffs a laugh at her honest assessment of his latest track and turns to watch her leave the room. His eyes catch Jared hovering awkwardly by the door and stay on him, gesturing him forward.

"What are you doing all the way back there?" he asks. "This is supposed to be a learning experience for you."

"I don't think I can retain anymore information today," Jared replies, pointing to the soundboard. "Also I'm a little worried I'll break that thing if I get within ten feet of it and it looks like it costs more than my house."

"Don't be dramatic," Jensen says, reaching out to grab the extra denim on the right leg of Jared's baggy jeans and trying to use it to tug Jared closer. "One good yard sale of all those little porcelain knickknacks and you'd be well on your way to covering anything you broke."

"Those are antiques." Jared raises his hand to a string of invisible pearls around his neck, clutching them in mock horror. "Please, not the hand painted dolls."

Smirking, Jensen says, "I already know you're gay, Jared. You don't gotta come out to me again."

"Fuck off," Jared tells him, emphatically, with a smile.

Jensen pops to his feet and rounds Jared, crowding his back and guiding him to the soundboard. 

"Go on," Jensen says, pressed as close to Jared as he had been when teaching him the guitar, and the familiarity of Jared's heart pounding in response is the only solid thing he has to convince himself that moment they shared this morning was even real. "I've seen you in an elevator. I know you're dying to push some buttons."

"I don't even know what they do," Jared reminds him.

"That's what I'm here for." Jensen leans forward, his entire body now glued to Jared's back, and puts his hand over Jared's, guiding him to one of the controls and pushing it up, then down so Jared can hear how it effects the sound. "These are your faders. See how easy that is?"

Jared smiles, entertained by the machine as he begins to feel emboldened to play around with the sounds. Jensen laughs when he makes a particularly awful racket, then mutters something about how the song is so bad it's actually an improvement. It takes several minutes of this, Jensen leading him to different parts of the mixer and letting his hands rest on Jared's as he teaches him, before Jared realizes that unlike with the guitar, Jensen's hands are shaking now.

He looks over at Jensen, concerned, and catches Jensen watching him with another one of those intense gazes. Jared wonders once again what exactly it is Jensen is craving and which hungers he hasn’t been feeding. Whether he could give it to him.

There's fear evident in Jensen's expression at having been noticed, and he stays quiet, frozen as he waits for Jared to draw attention to the tremors, or maybe to something even bigger than that. It's actually a relief when they're interrupted by Lisa reentering the room, dropping back into her chair without preamble.

She provides a perfect excuse to break from each other without it feeling awkward, and Jared and Jensen are both eager to take it.

"You let that kid break my equipment and I'll make you listen to this shit," she waves her hand at the speakers playing Jensen's song, "on repeat for days."

"Cruel and unusual," Jensen responds, looking away from Jared and focusing his attention back on the computer with the mixing software open on the screen. "Now, let's get this over with."

Jared is genuinely exhausted from the day. He's not sure how much time passes before Jensen shakes him awake, but that’s what makes him realize he's dozed off in the back of the room while Jensen and Lisa worked.

"C'mon, Sasquatch," Jensen says warmly. "Let's get you home."


	7. Day Seven

“Today I’m thinking jet skis,” Jensen says when he enters the kitchen, summoned by either the sound or scent of coffee brewing.

Jared chews his toast and elbows the mug he set aside for Jensen over, smiling at how easy this has already become. Living alone is new and not exactly welcome after years with Dee in the house and sharing an apartment before that, but Jared never had an easy routine with roommates in school, always felt like it took until the end of the year to figure out how to live peacefully in a stranger’s space. Today makes one week with Jensen and they’ve slipped into a morning routine that feels well-worn and easy.

“I was looking into it on my phone,” Jensen continues, holding it out for Jared to look at. “There are lots of places that do rentals, and some have VIP packages, very private. They cost a lot more, obviously, but I can send you money after this is over to cover it. No reason to take it out of your per diem. I know I’m not supposed to, but since I'm going to be sneaking you money anyway...”

He looks so excited that Jared feels downright guilty as he hands the phone back. “I’ve had a sudden change of plans for today.”

“What do you mean?” Jensen asks, face falling. “I didn’t even know we had plans.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Jared says. “That’s what changed.”

Jensen shrugs, over it apparently. “Okay, what are we doing instead?”

“A pipe burst at my parent’s house. I’ve gotten pretty decent at handling things like that ever since I took over this place. Aunt Dee couldn’t exactly keep up with projects even before I moved in here, so now I’m kind of the family fix-it guy.”

“We’re going to San Antonio to fix a pipe?” Jensen asks. “Do they not have plumbers down there?”

“Of course they do. But it’s a lot of money and my parents are on a budget.” Jared frowns. “I know it’s not as exciting as jet skis, but you don’t have to come.”

“You want to leave me here unsupervised?” Jensen asks, arching an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like the Jared I know.”

“I was thinking we could call a car for you, have them drive you to Dallas for the day, so you could see your folks while I see mine.”

The look Jensen gives him is one of absolute betrayal so chilling it makes Jared physically take a step back from him. 

“Or you could come with me,” he offers, holding his hands up in surrender. “My parents would be thrilled to have you, I’m sure. If nothing else you’ll get a great meal out of it. Momma always goes all out with dinner to thank me for helping.”

Jensen heaves a melodramatic sigh and then smiles. “Yeah, alright, sounds nice. I’m interested to see what kind of weirdos spawned you. But I’m saving the jet ski link. We still have a few days.”

“It’s a deal,” Jared says, grinning as he pats Jensen on the back. “I’m gonna go shower. Be ready to leave in thirty.”

The drive is mostly uneventful, with Jensen given control of the music and happy to play DJ the whole way. They get to his parent’s house around noon and Dad opens the door for them looking a little frazzled and a lot wet.

“I turned the water off,” he announces proudly. “And we’ve mostly managed to mop up the mess. It’s down in the basement.”

“Hi to you, too, Dad,” Jared says, pulling him into a hug.

His dad pats him on the back a few times and looks apologetic when he pulls away. “See, I would have warned you not to hug me, because I am gross right now.”

“Gonna get pretty dirty in a few minutes here,” Jared points out. “No hope of avoiding it.”

“I just realized how fun the ride back is gonna be for me,” Jensen mutters. “You smell enough on a regular day.”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” Jared tugs Jensen forward and pushes him towards his father. “Dad, this ray of sunshine is Jensen. Jensen, this is Dad.”

“Please call me Gerald, not Dad,” his father tells Jensen as they shake hands. “I’m sure you’re very nice, but the last thing in the world I need is more kids. We just got the last one out of the house.”

Jensen laughs. “It’s great to meet you, sir.”

His dad claps Jensen on the shoulder and starts steering him towards the kitchen, and Jared should realize right then what a bad situation he’s gotten himself into, but it’s not until he sees the truly evil gleam in his father’s eye as he glances at Jared behind Jensen’s back that it clicks.

“Follow me, there’s someone I know will want to meet you right this way.”

Jared opens his mouth to protest, but he’ll only make this scene worse if he complains, so he follows slowly through the swinging door, looking around for a closet big enough to hide in, as if he didn’t grow up in this house and doesn’t know there aren’t any.

By the time he reaches the kitchen, Jensen is standing by the sink, looking confused as Jared’s mother exclaims, “Oh, there he is. Goodness you look all grown up. I’m so used to your little boy face.”

She throws her arms around his shoulders and Jensen takes a long moment before awkwardly returning the embrace. When she pulls back, she pats Jensen’s cheek. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, I feel like I know you. Why, you were taped to every wall in my son’s room.”

“Is that so?” Jensen asks, grinning as he spares a glance in Jared’s direction, and Jared would already be in the basement if there was any justice in the world, because he would have sunk right through the floorboards.

“Oh, sure. Jensen Ackles poster here, wall of magazine covers there.” She puts her hand over her heart. “Every time I went to collect laundry from Jared, there you were, staring at me.”

By now, Jensen is glowing, not from the attention as much as from glee at how obvious Jared’s humiliation must be. “Tell me more, Mrs. Padalecki.”

“Oh, tut, call me Sherry,” she tells him, slapping his arm. “You’re practically part of the family. You have any idea how much I know about you? For years it was Jensen Ackles this, Jensen Ackles that.”

“I don’t eat shrimp anymore,” Jared’s father says, imitating Jared. “Jensen Ackles is allergic to shrimp.”

“We won’t be eating any shrimp when we’re married,” Mom says, playing along.

Jensen laughs in delight and Jared cuts in. “That’s enough, guys. He really doesn’t like to hear about—”

“No, by all means, I would _love_ to hear more.” Jensen leans towards Jared’s momma, feigning a whisper. “I don’t imagine that shrine of his is still intact?”

“Oh goodness, no,” she says. “We redecorated all the kids’ rooms once Meg moved out. Jared’s old room is my craft space now. And, you have a very lovely face, dear, no offense, but I was done looking at it.”

“I understand completely,” Jensen says. “I get pretty tired of it myself.”

“I hope you guys didn’t make us drive all the way down here just to talk about regrettable choices I made in my youth.”

“No, unfortunately the basement crisis is real,” Dad says. “Which is a shame, because we saved some of those clippings in a box down there. Jared could have shown you his _extensive collection_ , but by now it’s probably destroyed.”

“Small mercies,” Jared mutters.

Apparently, Momma has had her fill of teasing, because she rolls her sleeves up and gives Jensen a stern glance. “Now, there’s something you need to know about this family, and that’s that everybody pitches in here.”

“She’s telling you the pipe is your problem, too,” Jared explains.

Jensen shakes his head. “I’m a Very Important Person. I don’t fix pipes.”

Mom smiles. “Well, Mr. VIP, do you know anything about chopping vegetables?”

“A lot more than handiwork,” Jensen replies, smiling easily.

“You’ll help me out in the kitchen, then,” she says, slapping him lightly with an apron. “Gerry, you assist Jared.”

“I’m not much of a repairman myself,” Dad tells Jensen as if he’s letting him in on a secret. “But I know which wrench is which and have mastered the craft of handing them over when asked.”

Jensen huffs a laugh as he watches Jared’s dad head down the stairs and Jared pulls him aside.

“You alright with this?” he asks. “I know they’re a lot. You can absolutely opt out of cooking and hang out in the living room or—"

“And miss out on these juicy tidbits about your crush on me?” Jensen scoffs. “You wish.”

The last thing he hears as he follows his father down is his mother saying, “Now then, let’s make our men something nice to eat.”

The situation in the basement is as messy as advertised but turns out not to be as complicated as the panic in his father’s voice when he’d called that morning had led Jared to expect. They work for a couple of hours and by the end of it, the water is back on and all that’s left to do is sort out what can or can’t be salvaged after the flooding.

He’s sorting through boxes of his own things when he hears someone approaching behind him and turns to see Jensen, still wearing the red-trimmed apron his mother gave him, though it’s now smeared with evidence of a hearty meal being prepared.

“You slacking off?” Jared asks sternly.

Jensen smiles. “The roast is in the oven and your mother said dessert is a surprise, so I’ve been granted a break. Unpaid, though, which I’m definitely planning to talk to my union about.”

Jared laughs. “You poor working stiffs can’t catch a break, can you?”

Shaking his head, Jensen begins to dig through the nearest stack of boxes. “So is this where you keep your me-morabilia.”

Groaning, Jared says, “That’s the kind of thing I expect out of my sister, not you.”

“I dream of one day being on her pun level.” Jensen crosses his arms over his chest. “Stop changing the subject.”

Jared can feel his face changing color as he says, “Listen, I’m sorry if this is really weird for you. I wasn’t as obsessed as they make it sound.”

Jensen hesitates for a moment before he says, “Your family tease you because they love you. That’s not something to be ashamed of. You’re really lucky.”

“I know that,” he replies. “But I could do without them sharing all the details on what a heartthrob I thought you were.”

“Past tense,” Jensen says. “Hurts, man. Your mom says I’m very handsome now and that the years suit me.”

Jared laughs lightly and turns back to what he was doing, and there’s quiet for a few minutes as Jensen starts to wander through the basement, looking at family pictures and poking trinkets.

In fact, Jared nearly forgets he’s there until Jensen breaks the silence, “Dee Wallace and the Impalas. Was this her?”

Jared turns to face him and smiles when he sees what Jensen is pointing to. An old, framed poster from one of Aunt Dee’s first shows, where a picture of his aunt, much younger than Jared ever knew her, smiles alluringly from behind a strategically positioned guitar, which is the only thing she’s wearing. It’s signed and bears the loving dedication, “To My Baby Brother, Whatever Your Name Is.”

“That’s Aunt Dee,” Jared confirms. “She used to say that was her before she got good-looking.”

Jensen leans in to inspect the photograph. “She looks good enough.”

“Well, she was a real stunner in her seventies.” Jared moves across the room to stand next to Jensen. “She gave me that guitar.”

“I recognized it,” Jensen says, licking his lips as he turns to smile at Jared. “You let me ruin it with my autograph?”

“Made it more special,” Jared corrects. “Or that was my thinking at the time.”

“So I’ve heard.” Jensen’s smile is playful, but he doesn’t choose to keep teasing Jared for his teenage crush the way Jared expects. Instead he says, “You never told me she was a musician.”

“Yeah,” says Jared. “She was pretty popular on the state fair circuit back in the day, or so I’m told. And she was a band teacher at a nearby middle school until she retired. She was like you, never stopped being passionate about music. She taught me to love it, too.”

Jensen nods. He turns his body to Jared and reaches out, a little awkward, but endearing in his attempt at comfort as he places a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry for what you went through, Jared. Watching someone go slowly like that…”

Obviously, Jared’s Momma had been chatty while she and Jensen were cooking together. He can’t decide if making Dee's illness a conversation topic is better or worse than continuing to share embarrassing details from Jared’s youth the whole time.

“I’ve had months to deal with it,” Jared tells him. “I’m fine now. Don’t worry about—”

“You’re allowed to be in pain,” Jensen says, voice soft and yet it takes Jared off guard as if he’d yelled it. “Do you know that?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning away because Jensen’s starting to look through him instead of at him.

“All you do is think about other people. Sacrifice for them. Drop whatever you’re doing to help. I think it’s great, okay? Don’t get me wrong. But…you don’t have to brush off your own feelings to make the rest of us more comfortable. You do enough.”

Jared tries to laugh off Jensen’s words. “Jesus, how much did my mom talk at you?”

“It’s not just her. Honestly, she didn’t say too much.” Jensen shrugs. “I’m not as dumb as I look and I’ve been watching you pretty closely for a week now. I’ve seen you bend over backwards to make a friend’s birthday special and fix your parent’s house and even defend some guy who deserted you, but you haven’t once acknowledged the fact that someone you loved enough to put your life on hold for is gone and it hurts like hell.”

“I never pretended I wasn’t sad,” Jared defends.

“I’m not saying you lied about it,” Jensen explains. “I just can’t imagine you asking for help instead of offering it. Or believing you deserve something nice without trying to give it away to someone else. I’m glad you’ve got your sister looking out for you. I know I didn’t end up being much of a prize, but I think that’s why she entered you into the contest. She was trying to give you something good, the way you give to everyone else.”

Jared looks around for another conversation topic and nods his head toward the map of San Antonio on the wall next to Dee’s poster. “Hey, have you ever been to the city before? We could go out and see some sights while we wait for dinner to cook. The Alamo, right? Got to visit the Alamo.”

“Forget the Alamo,” Jensen says.

“That would make a pretty crummy bumper sticker,” Jared replies. Despite himself, Jensen laughs, and Jared takes the moment of levity and runs with it. “The Riverwalk, then. It’s pretty great.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen concedes, apparently giving up on the conversation. “Show me your hometown.”

The crowd at the Riverwalk is thick enough and the day is bright and hot enough that no one gives Jensen a second glance in his baseball cap and shades. They wander aimlessly—the boat tour is out of the question, way too high a chance of recognition if someone is sitting right across from Jensen staring at him—so instead Jared points out the buildings along the route, trying to remember what the guides used to say, though he was a kid the last time he took one of those tours. Mostly he makes a game out of inventing facts and seeing how many he can actually get Jensen to buy into. Not very many, in all honesty, but they have their fun.

They’ve hit a period of comfortable quiet and Jensen is smiling up at colorful umbrellas when he asks, seemingly out of the blue, “Has your family always been so accepting?”

Jared looks at him sideways and asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jensen licks his lips and looks down at his hands. “They don’t care that you’re gay at all. And they talk about your high school crush on a male celebrity like it was so normal. Was it always so easy?”

Jared considers the question, how he can’t quite pin if it’s happiness Jensen feels for him or something else driving him to ask. He wants to lie, to say things were always perfect, but if what he’s starting to suspect about Jensen is true, it wouldn’t be fair.

“Everyone was fine with me coming out,” Jared tells him, and Jensen nods like it’s what he was expecting. “Except for Aunt Dee.”

Jensen stops right in the middle of the path, which causes a small woman behind him to curse at him in Spanish and push ahead. Jensen is so surprised that he doesn’t even seem to notice. “Aunt Dee?”

“She didn’t talk to me for months after she found out. I thought, after what a nonissue it had been with my parents and siblings, that the hard part was done. It totally blindsided me.”

“But you guys were so close,” Jensen says. “I don’t understand.”

“It hurt so much having her reject me like that.” Jared swallows hard. “Finally, she reached out to me through Dad and apologized.”

“Fuck that,” Jensen growls. “Like an apology—”

“You forget, she was a lot older, and she didn’t understand everything just because she understood a lot. She told me that when she was my age, she saw a lot of things happen to people like me, just because they got caught. That’s why she’d been so upset. That’s all she knew about gay people, was bloody pictures in newspapers and Sunday afternoon gossip. She was _worried_ about me. But of course she loved me.”

“And you were okay with that?” Jensen asks. “You forgave her? Just like that?”

“Not just like anything,” Jared says, stopping to lean on the stone bridge as they cross to the other side of the river. “We worked for years to understand each other. She still said things for years after we made up that had me feeling like shit. But when you really love someone, you accept them, all of them. I accepted her, even the parts of her that needed growing, and she worked really hard to learn how to accept me.”

Jensen looks over the edge of the bridge instead of at Jared as he says, “Yeah, I guess the secret is caring about someone enough to do all that work.”

“Jensen,” Jared says, taking the risk of putting his hand over Jensen’s on the bridge because he feels like Jensen might need the support. “Why’d you ask about my family accepting me?”

“I think you know,” he says, very quietly. He’s pensive for a long minute, but his expression is colder than Jared expects when he looks back at Jared. “I wouldn’t have forgiven her.”

“I can forgive anyone,” Jared says. “As long as they genuinely try to do better.”

“Even me?” Jensen asks.

Jared smiles as warm as he can. “I forgave you days ago.”

The moment is heavy as he watches Jensen, unable to see his eyes through the shades or guess what’s in them. The edges of Jensen's lips tremble with repressed emotion as slowly but deliberately he turns his hand over, not pulling it from Jared's but instead placing it palm up and threading their fingers together.

For the first time, Jared is sure. They aren’t about to kiss on this bridge in one of the most crowded places in San Antonio, but Jensen wants to.

Neither of them says anything as their hands rest laced together on the stone and the moment stretches on for what feels like an eternity until suddenly a harsh vibration shocks Jared back into reality. He has to pull his hand back to check his phone and then he tells Jensen, “Come on, let’s head back. Dad says dinner is ready in twenty.”

When they get to Jared’s parent’s house, Jeff answers the door, because apparently everyone Jared has ever met needed to get in on this action.

“Oh my god,” he says as soon as he sees Jensen. “Aren’t you the cardboard guy?”

“Jeff, I will kill you,” Jared tells him.

“You’re definitely the cardboard guy.” Jeff grabs Jared and pulls him in, mussing up his hair as if he was still a kid. “This dweeb had a life-sized cutout of you in his room. My buddies and I used it as a shield during a backyard game of paintball once. You should have seen how purple Jared’s little face was when he got home and saw that we’d _destroyed_ you.”

“I had to ground him for two weeks,” Jared’s mother cries from the next room. “But honestly I was relieved to see it go. That thing scared the good lord's light right out of me.”

Jared sighs as he walks into the house, knowing already that this is going to set the tone for the rest of their night.

* * *

"I can't believe you're actually eating that," Jared says, glancing briefly over at Jensen as he maneuvers the car onto the interstate. "Momma just fed us a mountain of food and followed it up with an entire sheet cake."

Jensen pauses, dangling a handful of fries over his mouth before lowering them back into their orange and white cardboard bucket. "I can't believe you're _not_. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had these fries?" He holds up a ketchup container so that the streetlight above them catches it like a spotlight. "This ketchup. This fine, outstanding, fancy ketchup. I swear it's different from regular ketchup. Fuck, so good."

"And if you drop it in my car, I'll drown you in a vat of it."

He shrugs. "Good way to go." 

"I guess it's a lucky thing you like exercise so much," Jared jokes while Jensen gleefully unwraps a burger. "Or you'd be dead."

"Please, the health benefits are a downside," Jensen says as he swallows his first bite. "If the binge eating takes me out before all the drugs and booze, that's a delicious death I can get behind."

"Can't believe Whataburger hasn't hired you to be their spokesperson yet," Jared replies.

"I know, right? I come cheap, too. They could pay me in food." Jensen thinks on it as he chews. "I bet I'd look cute in a little orange outfit."

"With short shorts," Jared suggests. "Show off those runner's legs."

"You're damn right!" Jensen says. "I've got exactly one thing left going for me and there's an expiration date. We gotta pull in those sponsorships while I'm still, what was it your mom said you used to call me? 'Not a dreamboat but a whole dreamfleet.'"

"Okay, first of all, I never said that." The way Jensen snorts makes it clear how believable Jared's lie is. He frowns as he continues, "And what do you mean 'one thing left to offer'? Is that why you work out so much, because you think it's all you have?"

"I know what keeps me employed, Jared. It ain't my songwriting." Jensen glances over at the same time as Jared and their eyes meet. He must see the concern in Jared's expression, because he immediately dismisses it. "It's not actually that deep. I don't usually run as much as I have since I got to your place. There just wasn't much else to do in that room. I could either use the treadmill or start talking to the weirdo clowns. And I don't like their demeanor."

"Or, god forbid, go hang out with Jared," Jared offers.

"Anything but that," Jensen replies, reaching out to squeeze Jared's thigh.

Jared smiles at the touch, at the easy flirtatiousness of it, even though it's brief and Jensen immediately pulls back to his side of the car. He wonders whether to keep pressing Jensen about his insecurities and decides to go back to a safer topic.

"There are Whataburgers outside of Texas," he points out. "Why didn't you just get some on one of your tours if you were craving it so bad?"

"Reminds me of home," Jensen explains.

"And that's…a bad thing?" Jared clarifies.

Jensen shrugs, carefully dipping fries so he doesn't make a mess. Jared looks away from him, focusing on the road and hoping that Jensen might open up a little more if they can't see each other.

"I'll just come right out and say this. I'm trying to find a good balance between getting to know you and not prying." Jared bites his lip. "I don't know what's off limits."

"It's not like I'm trying to shut you out," Jensen tells him after a short silence. "I was, at first, but. You're impossible."

"Oh, okay, thanks," Jared says. He huffs a laugh. "Was that a compliment or an insult?"

"Neither. Both. I don't know. You scare me."

"I _scare_ you?" Jared asks, frowning. "What about me scares you?"

"Everything about you is basically engineered to terrify me." Jensen puts his empty fries in a bag and crumples it, tossing it into the backseat next to the neatly packed stacks of Tupperware full of food his mother sent them home with. "Why do you think I behaved the way I did when I got here? Why do you think I threw myself into chasing that high the first night even though I knew it could ruin everything? How do animals react when they're trapped? They lash out."

"I didn't mean to trap you," Jared tells him. "I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe."

"No, that's not..." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jensen scrub a hand over his face. "Fuck, I can't say anything right."

"Start over," Jared tells him, trying to sound encouraging. "We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us. I know…" He thinks back to the bridge, to Jensen's fingers slowly curling around his, and the unspoken confession in that action. "You must have a lot to say. There's no reason to rush saying it."

Jensen takes a long minute to structure his thoughts. "Imagine your entire adult life you've been forced to live a certain way. Crush parts of yourself. Every damn day for fifteen years, and it starts to eat at you. Warps you into this horrible version of yourself. And then suddenly you're tossed into close quarters with someone who just _didn't_. By the same bastards who made you change in the first place. Suddenly it's like, no matter where you go, there's this mirror of what you could have been. Someone who's comfortable and warm and open about all those things you've tried to kill." Jensen's voice drops to a whisper as he says, "Now imagine they were _beautiful_. In a way you know it's too late for you to ever be."

Jared hesitates. "I guess I wouldn't like that very much at all."

"Scary," Jensen repeats. "Threatening. You weren't, but what you stand for sure is."

"I'm not trying to _stand for_ anything," Jared says. "I'm just existing."

"So was I," Jensen replies.

The simple defeat in those words breaks Jared's heart. All he wants is something better for Jensen, and yet there's no way to go back and undo whatever it took to break him over the course of a decade and a half.

"You said it's too late," Jared points out after a long silence. "It's not."

He expects Jensen to dismiss that the same as he did all of Jared's other concerns, but instead he says, "Maybe."

Maybe feels like a breakthrough somehow. It makes him smile so wide his face aches. Maybe means hope. Jensen still doesn't believe it, but it's not impossible anymore. It's a solid maybe.

"So that's why you drank the other night?" Jared eventually asks. "Because you were scared of me?"

"Well, don't get a big head about it," Jensen teases. "I'm an addict. I'll take any excuse."

Jared laughs but doesn't completely give up the seriousness of the moment. "I don't want to be a trigger."

"You don't have to be. I can work on that." Jensen seems to fight himself on whether to admit, "I called Misha. Earlier, when you were ordering my food and I said I was using the bathroom."

"Kind of late to call him, isn't it?"

"He's used to putting up with me." The smirk is audible. "Anyway, I needed perspective."

"That's good, right?" Jared hmms. "Bad. It's bad, because it meant you were having a craving?"

"I have them all the time, but I managed this one responsibly. I'd put it in the win column. I figured you and I were probably about to have some difficult conversations, and I wanted to. I want to open up to you. But I also know myself. I don't like difficult conversations. I like," he pauses for a moment to pretend he's thinking very intently and then finishes, "drugs. So I planned for that, and I called my sponsor."

"I'm proud of you," Jared tells him.

"Thank you," Jensen replies patting his tummy. "I earned this second dinner and the stomachache I can already feel coming on."

"Listen, I told you we could get the fast food another day. You're the one who needed it right away. Added fifteen minutes to our night. My ass was already tired hours ago while you and my family were busy laughing at me."

"Sorry to hear about your ass," Jensen says in a somber tone. "I was feeling the Texas love, though, aren't you happy for me?"

"I am happy," Jared confirms. "Bums me out that you have such lousy memories here. I love this place."

"It's not lousy memories so much as…" Jensen is speculative for a moment. "You ever had something good go sideways? And then even the nice memories just leave a bad taste in your mouth?"

Jared thinks back on years of curling up on the couch with Dee watching her soaps, and how they used to make up absurd plot twists and place bets on whether they would come true. Then he remembers how fast he changed the channel the last time he happened across _Days of Our Lives_ , the fun now tainted by more recent memories of his aunt staring right through the television set as universe-ending revelations played out across it, already a ghost in some ways.

"Yeah," he finally replies. "I get it."

"Once upon a time, I was happy here. Sometimes that’s worse to be reminded of. But seeing it again with you has healed a lot," Jensen tells him. "Making new good memories to drown out the bad ones and bring the earlier ones back to the front."

"Will you tell me what happened?" Jared asks softly. "What went wrong?"

"Maybe another day, okay?" Jensen sounds apologetic but he stays firm. "I really buried this shit. I'm not sure I can dig it all up at once."

"That's fine, of course," Jared assures him, though a part of his brain volunteers the unwelcome reminder that they're running out of days to push things to. Only three more. God, ten days with Jensen had felt like such an endless sentence just a week ago.

"So what'd you think of my family?" he asks when they've both been quiet for a while. "I hope the day wasn't a total drag."

"It was a delight. Your mom liked me, your dad liked embarrassing you, and it was nice to see your brother again."

"Oh right, because you two met." Jared switches lanes to pass a semi and catches Jensen smiling out of the corner of his eye as he's scanning for traffic. "I forgot about that."

"Not that we really met the first time. He was checking his watch the whole time." Jensen laughs. "I couldn't get his attention to save my life."

"Why would _you_ be trying to get _his_ attention?" Jared asks. "You were the rock star."

"Mmm," Jensen replies. "You're not gonna like it."

"Ah, come on!" Jared exclaims, looking to Jensen with his mouth dropping open and just barely keeping his eyes on the road as the realization hits. "I thought it was so special that you remembered me! But you didn't. You remembered _him_."

"He was hot," Jensen says, shrugging unapologetically. "I thought it was cute that he brought his little brother out."

" _Cute_ ," Jared repeats. "I would have _died_ that night if I realized you were crushing on _Jeff_ instead of me. Died!"

"You were like twelve, man, it would have been weird if I was checking you out."

"Yeah, but still." Jared sputters for a few moments. "Jeff? Really? _Jeff_?"

"Hey, would it make you feel better if I told you I can now definitively say that you grew up to be the hotter brother?"

"I mean, I guess it helps a little," Jared replies, trying to keep his pout instead of smiling. "But seriously. Jeff? Gross."

Jensen grins and pats his thigh again, this time leaving his hand resting on it casually. "There, there. The suffering will end someday."

"Easy for you to say," Jared mutters. "One day I'll hit on your brother, see how you like it."

Immediately, Jensen says, "I think I'd like that very much. It would mean seeing you past the next three days."

"That's sweet," Jared admits, glancing his way. "Weird coming from you. But sweet."

"See, no one ever talks about how sweet I am," Jensen complains. He quickly forgets his gripe, jumping excitedly in his seat as he sees a billboard off the side of the road and points out the window like a kid arriving at Disney World. "Oh, oh, take the next exit! There's a Buc-ee's!"

* * *

By the time they get home from Jared's parents' house, it's well past dark, and they’re both tired enough that they say little more than polite goodnights before retreating to their separate rooms. Jared falls asleep almost immediately and sleeps well, so when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he isn’t sure why until he’s starting to drift off and a noise starts, one that he vaguely recognizes as having woken him once he hears it again.

He sits listening for several minutes as the same few notes of music start, then stop, then start again. It sounds like Jensen's music used to, but when Jared tries to place the song, sifting through his fairly exhaustive mental catalogue of Jensen Ackles’s Greatest Hits, the melody isn’t familiar.

Eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him. As comfortable as his bed is and as easy as it would be to let the music lull him back into dreams, he gets up and heads down the hall, pausing in the archway when he sees Jensen sitting on the armchair nearest to the hall with Jared's old guitar in his lap. He’s wearing a thin gray t shirt and boxer shorts and his hair looks mussed from sleep; Jared smiles at how soft and how human he looks right now, without any of the bravado he puts on during the day.

Jensen plays the same stanza that woke Jared once, stops, makes a face of frustration, and begins again. He does it four times before finally the expression is one of triumph instead of annoyance, and Jensen leans over the space between the chair and the coffee table, jotting down a few notes on a napkin with improvised bars drawn onto it.

Now that Jensen has reached a break in his playing, Jared decides it would be a good time to make his presence known. “Hey.”

Completely lost in his work, Jensen jumps at Jared’s voice. “Shit! Did I wake you? I’m so, so sorry. I thought since the living room was farther from you than my room and if I played softly enough, you wouldn’t hear.”

“It’s okay,” Jared says, leaning his head against the wall next to him and smiling. “It was nice.”

Jensen looks down at the guitar, hiding his face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Jared frowns. “Is there something I can do to—?”

When he lifts his head, Jensen looks almost innocent, like an excited little kid, and Jared realizes it was a smile, not shame, that Jensen was ducking his face to hide. “I mean, I couldn’t sleep because this song kept playing in my head. I haven’t written anything in years. Tonight, I had to get up and put this down on paper.”

Understanding what Jensen is saying makes Jared's chest feel lighter, and he moves into the room, taking a seat across from Jensen on the couch. “That’s awesome. Can I hear it?”

Jensen licks his lips and thinks it over for a long moment, then shakes his head. “It’s not finished.”

“Okay.” Jared smiles. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t feel like you have to stop.”

As he stands and begins to pass Jensen on his way back to his bedroom, Jared feels Jensen catch him by the forearm and pull him in. Jared stops next to him and looks down as Jensen stares up at him with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Jared asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “It’s no big deal, man.”

Jensen doesn’t take his eyes off Jared, and his hand begins to move on Jared’s arm, slowly, feather-light touch tracing its way up until Jared has to stoop next to him in order for Jensen to continue.

It brings him down to Jensen’s level, his face just a foot or so away from Jensen’s.

“I’m writing music,” he says, even though, well. They already covered that. “Jared.”

The way Jensen’s fingers are circling on Jared’s biceps has become hypnotic, and the look on his face is transparent. Jensen wants him. They're home now, not on some bustling tourist street, and Jared doesn't have the strength of will to inject all the 'what about?'s that he used to convince himself he didn't need this just yesterday. He closes his eyes and leans most of the way, waiting for Jensen to close the distance between them.

He waits. And waits. It doesn’t happen. Jensen doesn’t let go of him, doesn’t stop ghosting his touch along Jared’s skin, and his breath is shaky, heavy enough that Jared can feel it this close to him. But the kiss doesn’t happen.

Jared opens his eyes to see that Jensen looks like he’s in agony, and that just won’t do.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “Jensen, kiss me.”

There’s no anger or rejection or even denial. Jensen sways forward an inch or two before withdrawing and shaking his head. He looks terrified and Jared won’t push him. But he won’t keep pretending not to notice it, either.

He pulls away completely, standing to his full height and taking his arm back from Jensen. 

“I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but I know when someone wants me,” he says. “I know that I’m not the only one feeling this.”

Jensen is quiet, his expression full of pleading. Lost, and he wants Jared to tell him what to do.

“I can’t make this decision for you,” he says as he turns towards his room. He pauses at the hall to add, “Just know that I’m here and I'm ready.”


	8. Day Eight

"Hey, wake up." Jared rouses slowly as a gentle rocking stirs him, and when he blinks his eyes open, he thinks he's in his childhood bedroom for the few seconds before his brain catches up.

Jensen Ackles's face is floating above him, smiling softly, and Jared grins back on reflex as he realizes it's not some poster from BOP Magazine. It's the real thing.

"What're you doin' in my room?" he asks groggily. "Who let you in here?"

Huffing, Jensen says, "Well, first of all, the door was open…"

Jared 'mmm's as he burrows deeper into his pillow and blankets. "That's because I was hoping this really cute guy might sneak in after I went to bed."

"How cute?" Jensen asks. "I wanna see a cute guy. What am I looking for?"

"Well, he's got your eyes, freckles, pretty similar build," Jared sits up so he can reach where Jensen is perched at the edge of the bed and touches the top of his head. "About this tall."

"He does sound handsome," Jensen replies.

Jared laughs. "He's just alright, but it's slim pickings if you don't wanna leave the house."

"And here I was starting to feel all warm and squishy inside," Jensen says with a pout.

"Don't be upset." Jared licks his lips, a little unsure of whether what he's about to say is too bold considering how hesitant Jensen is being about moving this thing between them forward, but he promised last night that he wasn't gonna keep dancing around it, so he doesn't. "It's nice to wake up to you."

Jensen doesn't say anything, but when he gently strokes Jared's face, pushing hair away from his eyes, Jared can better see that his expression is easier and more open than he thinks he's seen it in all their time together. He wonders what did it, if the talk they had in the car made him feel lighter or if it was the songwriting. Maybe it was the combination, a domino effect starting with opening up after so many years of bottling his emotions eventually leading to creativity and some peace of mind. Jared hopes.

"You look rested," he observes. "Did you manage to get some sleep last night?"

Shrugging, Jensen says, "A bit."

"Good." Jared reaches out and tentatively takes his hand, and Jensen battles his instincts, relaxing and allowing Jared to hold him despite nearly pulling away at first. "That's good, right?"

"Yeah." Jensen looks almost shy as he says, "I made you breakfast."

"Bring it to me in bed," Jared demands, flopping onto his back. "I must have full service."

Jensen huffs with amusement and grabs a spare pillow, hitting Jared in the face with it. "Come on, lazy ass. Get up and follow me to the kitchen. I wanna make plans for today."

"Jet skis, right?" Jared shoves the pillow and blanket aside and prepares to get out of bed. "I promised yesterday—"

"C'mon." Jensen gives Jared a light smack on the side, encouraging him to get up, and then leaves the room with a spring in his step.

Jared is a little slower behind him. He makes a pit stop in his bathroom and by the time he reaches the table, there's a small spread of food waiting, along with a stack of papers that has been neatly arranged on the far side. Jared can see a mess of scratched out lines and bars of music on the top sheet, so apparently at some point in the night Jensen graduated up from the napkin he'd been using.

"Did you finish it?" he asks, pointing to the song.

"Kind of. I've got a solid first draft," Jensen says as he carries over two mugs of coffee, one black and one already loaded with just the right amount of milk and a ton of sugar for Jared.

"Can I—?"

Jared barely has a chance to open his mouth to ask before Jensen replies, "You can't hear it. It's not ready. This one has to be perfect."

"If you'd taken that attitude sooner, a lot of good people could have been spared your last few CDs."

"Don't make me pour this on your head, Jared." Jensen holds up the coffee mug menacingly before setting it down on the table. "Now eat. You'll need your energy."

Jared turns his attention to the food Jensen made him, feeling his forehead wrinkle in confusion.

"Is that my momma's mashed potatoes?" he asks. "And the pot roast?"

Jensen smiles and heaps hash onto Jared's plate. "I repurposed the leftovers."

"That's pretty smart," Jared admits. Then he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But she must never know."

"I'll share the recipe and she'll be charmed," Jensen insists. "I'm her favorite son now."

"This is exactly what Dad was worried would happen," Jared jokes as he scoops up a forkful of food. "We've told her a thousand times she can't adopt just anyone who wanders in off the street."

"I'm not just anyone. I come with a plane." Jared snorts as he eats his first bite and Jensen doesn't wait until he's had a real chance to taste it. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

Jared takes his time chewing and swallowing, then nods. "Damn, man. This is like a whole new meal. I never guessed you had this in you. Would have thought you had a live-in chef or something to do all the work."

"I do," Jensen replies, pushing some hash around on his own plate. "Haven't cooked much in ages but I used to, uh. My mom and I cooked together a lot when I was growing up. Like I did with yours yesterday. I guess I missed it."

"Well, it's really great," Jared tells him. 

"Thanks. So about today…" Jensen lifts his eyes from his food to meet Jared's gaze. "What do you like to do, Jared?"

"What do you mean?" he asks. "I've enjoyed all the stuff we've done. I'm sure the jet skis will be—"

"Forget the jet skis," Jensen interrupts. "I've spent a week with you. I've walked around this house inspecting every random picture and object I could find. And I still have no idea what your hobbies are."

"Hobbies?" Jared repeats, confused and a little embarrassed to be so thrown by the concept.

"I've got my music. I used to have cooking. Running and swimming are my favorite ways to exercise." Jensen ticks things off on his fingers, then gestures to Jared. "What are you passionate about?"

"Dee and I used to crochet together," Jared offers. "We made that blanket draped over the couch."

"Sounds like maybe that was her hobby that you did with her," Jensen points out.

"I guess that's true, but it was a nice way to spend time. Stephen had a boat we—" Jared starts, but he stops as soon as he hears himself. He feels his face start to turn red, utterly humiliated, and the fact that Jensen doesn't seem surprised only makes it worse. "Fuck, am I completely boring? I don't have _any_ interests of my own."

"I don't think that's the problem," Jensen says. Which is kind of rich coming from the guy who brought it to Jared's attention in the first place. "Wasn't always like that, was it?"

It takes him a few minutes to connect the same dots Jensen seems to have had no problem with. He wants to believe it's because Jensen has been paying especially close attention and maybe patterns are easier to spot with a little distance. Any conclusion except that Jared is actually this detached from his own life.

"I was so overwhelmed when Dee got sick," he explains. "I started putting things off more and more. School, obviously, but other stuff, too. At first it was a few skipped weekends or nights out, but the longer she was ill and the worse she got, the more attention she needed. Hobbies weren't really more important than being here for her."

"Yeah, I figured. And when you did get some time, you prioritized other people," Jensen guesses. "Went out to do what Stephen wanted instead of what made you happy."

Jared shrugs. "Would have been selfish not to. I was burnt out all the time. Relationships can't survive like that. I had to find time for him."

Jensen makes a sour face but doesn't seem interested in lingering on the subject of Stephen, which is a relief, because that's not really what Jared wants to think about on his second-to-last full day with Jensen, either.

"That's in the past now," Jensen says. "You've got all the time in the world."

"You're right." Jared frowns. "I guess I just kind of…forgot? I was in such an emotional ditch after everything went down, it never occurred to me to get back out there. I hadn't even really noticed until just now."

"We're gonna fix that," Jensen tells him. "Today."

"How?" Jared prompts. "What are we doing today?"

Jensen laughs. "You tell me, man. What did you used to do for fun?"

The question should be easy to answer, but it takes Jared some real digging. He loves running but has a feeling Jensen is looking for something more recreational, and while he's kept up with his reading, that's not really an activity they can do together.

"I love nature," Jared offers after a long moment. "I used to wait all week for a few days off from class to go out in the woods and see new places. Camping, hiking, learning about the land and animals. I knew most of the local plants and birds and all."

"A real nerd," Jensen says affectionately.

"Please, no pet names," Jared replies, sticking his tongue out.

Jensen taps his hands on the table as he rises, announcing, "Alright, well, that's decided then. Let's get ready to go smell some fresh air or whatever."

"Only if you want," Jared says. Jensen gives him a flat look and Jared rubs the back of his neck. "Jesus, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Baby steps." Jensen collects Jared's plate, carrying it to the kitchen and dumping it in the sink. "With my help, you'll be a self-absorbed jerk in no time."

Jared laughs. "Let's meet somewhere in the middle, yeah?"

* * *

"Dear lord, in your infinite mercy, please take me." Jared huffs a laugh at the theatrics going on behind him and presses ahead. "How can dying last this long? Why have I alone been chosen to suffer?"

"I'll take it from all your complaining that you're having fun," Jared calls back.

"Why was I sent to live with this sadist?" Jensen continues as if he didn't hear Jared. "Between you and me, Mr. God, sir, I think we covered penance for all my sins a mile and a half and _three billion feet of elevation_ ago."

"They don't call it Hill Country for nothing," Jared informs him.

"It's stairs!" Jensen yells. "We came out to nature today to climb stairs."

"Natural steps," Jared says, turning to do jazz hands in Jensen's direction. "Come on, keep up."

Jensen rushes towards Jared, panting from the effort, and stops next to him on the trail, glaring. "You have a sparkle in your eye. Like you're enjoying my pain."

"I'm enjoying this," Jared confirms, gesturing around them with both his arms. "And I think, deep down, you are, too."

"Way, way deep down," Jensen mutters. "Like at the bottom of this mountain."

"I'm not sure I would call this a mountain," Jared replies. "Besides, it was your idea to do this. I was fine with the jet ski plan."

"And I have learned my lesson. I will never again make the mistake of thinking of anyone's happiness except my own."

"There's the moral of the story." Jared pokes him in the side. "Do you want to go back?"

"You kidding me?" Jensen asks incredulously. "You think after all that I'm leaving without seeing the payoff? I'm gonna scale this godforsaken mountain if it kills me. Which, to be clear, it might."

Jared grins as he loosens the cap on his water bottle, taking a long pull before handing it to Jensen. As he drinks, Jared says, "For what it's worth, we're pretty close. Been a few years, but I think I remember that boulder being near the top."

Wiping water off his chin, Jensen smiles back at him. "Distract me with more of your dumb science facts."

Jared points to the rock again and says, "Okay, want to know how that one formed?"

The climb is another twenty-five minutes or so and by the time they reach the summit, Jared is as winded as Jensen is, breathing too heavy to talk about the geological features around them, as fascinating as he finds them. 

Jensen can't even muster up his token protesting as they pass the last tree and enter a wide clearing. From where they're standing now they can see miles of hilly countryside, but Jared's favorite part of this view is off to the left where a clear blue lake reflects the sun and clouds, surface perfectly still. Just looking at it makes him feel more peaceful than he ever remembers being, and he can't wrap his head around the fact that he let himself forget this. Might never have done it again if not for Jensen.

"Wow," Jensen says, mouth hanging open as he turns a few times, trying to take in all 360˚. "You weren't kidding."

"Worth it, right?" He walks closer to the water, pulling out a blanket and beginning to set up the picnic they'd packed.

Jensen stops staring and levels Jared with a flat look. Jared just smiles, as charmed by his bitching as anything. 

"Well, you made it, despite all the close calls." Jared gestures like he's highlighting the prize on a gameshow. "Welcome to Lake Lawrence."

"They say Lawrence went mad shortly after discovering it, driven by the suffering he endured getting up the hill."

"Nobody says that," Jared tells him. "You just made it up."

"I didn't question all your stuff about rocks," Jensen says, jutting out his bottom lip. "Why you gotta blow holes in my cool facts?"

"You think I invented how rocks are made?" Jared asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"We have no way of knowing," Jensen tells him. "It's all based on trust."

Jared lifts his cellphone up for Jensen to see. "We have Google."

"You kidding me?" he asks. "You've got reception? Here, gimme that. I could be playing _Angry Birds_."

Jared laughs as he tucks his phone back into his pocket and finishes setting up, grabbing the sandwiches at the bottom of his sack last.

"I love it up here," he says, tossing Jensen one of the Ziplock bags. "It's always so quiet. I don't think I've ever seen another person on the trail."

"Gee, I wonder what about it repels sane people," Jensen grumbles as he takes a spot on the blanket and sits down cross-legged on the ground.

They eat in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the natural world around them as they both recover their strength after the challenging hike. Once he's done, Jensen dumps his garbage back into Jared's backpack and lies flat on the blanket, tucking an arm behind his head as he scans the clouds. Jared stays sitting up next to him, as taken with the sight of Jensen as with the scenery.

"This reminds me of the camp I used to go to as a kid," Jensen says after a long period of quiet. "A little bit. There was a lake. At night I used to sneak off and…"

"Swim?" Jared guesses when it's clear Jensen isn't going to finish his thought. "Is that where you started loving it so much?"

"Yeah, I guess, but that's not—" Jensen lifts up a little, resting back on his elbows so he can look at Jared more directly. "You have any idea how scared I am I'll tell you too much and you'll stop liking me?"

"What could you possibly say that would be more off-putting than listening to you complain all the way up a steep hill?"

Jensen laughs and looks down. "I haven't talked about that camp since I left Texas."

"You seem to have liked it," Jared hazards. "You've mentioned it to me before."

"It was formative in more ways than one," Jensen says. "Camp Chitaqua. Most prestigious summer music program in the state."

Jared can tell that whatever happened there runs deeper than roasting s'mores and singing campfire songs. They're on the precipice of something big, but Jared can't nudge Jensen off the cliff. He stays quiet and waits to see if the dam Jensen's put up is going to spill over or not.

"It's where I met my first love," Jensen tells him. Jared's mouth forms an 'o' before he has a chance to check his response and Jensen says, "Yeah."

"What was," Jared hesitates, licking his lips before finishing the question, "his name?"

"Matt. He was a year older than me and when he played the piano I'd forget how to breathe sometimes. I couldn't believe he even knew I existed."

"I can," Jared replies easily.

Jensen smiles at that just a little. "We were pretty inseparable, but it took me a long time to understand it. He was patient. Most nights we would sneak away to the lake and be together and it was like a movie, everything felt so perfect. You thought I hated Texas? I was so happy here. In a place just like this."

"Nothing quite like the first time," Jared says, smiling. When he sees the cloud over Jensen's face he adds, "Never quite get over that first heartbreak either."

"Not in my experience," Jensen agrees.

Jared reflects on how angry Jensen was the first time they fought about Stephen, how personal it seemed to be. Way too intense for him to only have been upset by what little Jared had shared, especially considering how much he'd disliked Jared up to that point.

"What did he do?"

Jensen shakes his head and says, "Nothing. He was the perfect first love. All he did was make me believe I could do anything if I could write a few songs that captured the way being with him made me feel. Nobody gets that lucky their first time. No one."

The answer is almost worse than the prick ex-boyfriend drama Jared had expected, because if it wasn't Matt, it had to be something much bigger. Something bad enough to have left Jensen completely unable to risk that kind of emotion again.

"It was the best thing that'd ever happened to me." Jensen smiles bitterly. "When I went home after that summer, I was so excited to tell my momma. She and I were close. We did everything together. Like you and Dee. I thought she'd be happy for me. I was in love. It never occurred to me that could be wrong."

"Oh, Jensen," Jared says apologetically.

"Stupid little kid." Jensen swallows hard. "She brought me right back down to earth. She was so _ashamed_ of me. And herself. She blamed herself. Said she ruined me by loving me too much."

"That's not—"

"I know," Jensen replies, holding up a hand to stop Jared. "But it doesn't matter. She believed it. Maybe still does. She told Dad and they dragged me to church, had the pastor say so many terrible things that by the end of it, I thought they were true."

"Did you ever see Matt again?" Jared asks.

"Oh, sure. We both went back to camp the next year. He had aged out by then, but he'd promised to become a counselor so we could be together again. He still loved me. And I…I told him…" Jensen's laugh is laced through with self-hatred. "I said he'd taken advantage of me. That I never loved him or wanted any of the things he did to me. I was so desperate not to be a fag that I convinced myself it was all true, and I tried to convince him. If you had seen the look on his face. I would give anything to forget it. My money, my fame, my life. Anything."

"That's horrible," Jared says.

"The most fucked up thing is that he's still out there. He knows. He's known this whole time. I was a dumb, love-struck teenager. I didn't realize I might need to bury this all someday. I wrote him notes, lyrics, things I know he kept. He could have outed me at any moment and proven it. Gotten a little revenge and a nice chunk of change, too. He just hasn't. Even after what I did. I kept waiting for it those first few years when my career took off, but he's never told a soul. That's how good he was."

"I think it means he's not mad at you," Jared theorizes. "That he understands why you did what you did and that you didn't mean it, and he forgives you."

"Or maybe he believed me. Maybe he still believes it." When Jensen looks at him, Jared is shocked to realize there are tears brimming in his eyes. "Do you hate me? I won't blame you. God knows I do."

"Of course I don't hate you." Jared frowns. "You were just a kid."

"I was seventeen. I was old enough to write a platinum album. I should have been old enough to know better."

"What they did to you—it's abuse," Jared insists. "It wasn't your fault that you didn't know how to respond."

"Yes, it was my fault. No one forced me to hurt Matt." Jensen chokes on his words. "Someone great loved me and I told him he—it's monstrous. That's what I am, a monster."

"You're not a monster," Jared replies. "Sometimes good people do bad things when they're hurting. You were in so much pain."

Jensen breaks then, letting out a sob as Jared wraps him in his arms. "Stop. Stop being nice to me. Isn't there a limit for you? Isn't there a point when even you can't pretend someone isn't disgusting?"

"I'm not pretending anything," Jared assures him, resting his chin on the top of Jensen's head as he pulls him in closer. "You were as much a victim as Matt was."

"Guys like you and Matt, you deserve better than guys like me and Stephen." Jensen curls his fingers in Jared's shirt, holding on as if for life. "We shouldn’t exist."

It all clicks into place then. Jensen's fury with Jared's ex _had_ been personal, even more so than he realized. Jensen has been holding this grudge all these years not against some asshole who broke his heart but against _himself_.

"I'm glad you do," Jared says and when Jensen scoffs, he pulls away and holds Jensen just far enough to be sure Jensen can see his face. "Your music helped me. I know it helped others like us. Can't that count, too? You hurt one person but you helped hundreds, if not thousands. It doesn't make it all go away, but it does prove you're not a monster."

Jensen looks at him with the same unfiltered emotion in his face that he'd had the first night, when he was begging Jared to let him stay. It's easy to see how much he wants to believe what Jared is saying.

"Is that why you stayed closeted all these years?" Jared asks. "Do you still believe that bullshit they told you in church?"

Jensen shakes his head. "I understood how wrong it was the moment I saw Matt's heart breaking right in front of me, but the damage was done. This was all happening around the same time the label discovered me. I was just as stupid with them as with mom. Told them I wanted to be out, that I would be some kind of role model for gay kids. They made it pretty clear that was a deal breaker. I wouldn't be marketable like that, you know how it goes."

Jared nods, unsurprised.

"All I cared about by that point was my music. I would have done anything to have it be heard. Reconciled myself to the idea that I'd just not—it didn't feel like that big a sacrifice at first. I couldn't imagine ever loving anyone like that again, so why not pretend to be straight? I had no idea how much it would eat at me. It happened slow, too. At first it was easy to ignore that part of myself. When it would start to creep in, I'd just drown it out. Another party. Turn the music up. A few more drinks. A couple of pills to get through it. Same old, predictable story."

Jared thinks about the evolution of Jensen's music knowing what he does now, and finally his career makes sense. _Swan Song_ had been confused and optimistic, full of innocence. A little unsophisticated stylistically but with so much of the raw emotion Jensen has described that it was an instant success.

His second album, _Mystery Spot_ was more complicated, reveling in a higher level of musicianship and more nuanced lyrics, a touch more jaded but with some of the same sense of wonder and hope.

_All Hell Breaks Loose_ had followed and been celebrated for continuing to build on the sonic evolution of the first two albums, but lyrically it was a complete tonal shift, fueled by fury and bitterness that makes it clear the songs were written after Jensen's break up with Matt and his parent's rejection. 

Rumors of Jensen's drug use had already started to trickle into magazines and gossip blogs when _Caged Heat_ was released. His fourth album was a departure from his previous sounds, which had been easy to place in a genre, blues-infused indie rock. With _Caged Heat_ , Jensen took risks and got experimental in ways he hadn't before and as hard as it was for Jared to face the disappointment of his hero starting to fall into trouble, it was undeniable that the music was groundbreaking. The lyrics, while largely nonsensical, always struck Jared as a little sad.

By the time _Nihilism_ came out, it was clear that Jensen's partying had started to take over. The CD is a directionless mess with a few glimmering gems hidden between studio-written tracks with a sound that, while poppy and fun, made no sense in Jensen's oeuvre. 

After that, Jensen's music falls right off a cliff with a slew of uninspired releases coming one right after the other, pumped out through an industry machine with no art or love put into their creation: _The Rising Son_ , _The Hero's Journey_ , and _Moriah_. All pretty universally panned and even Jared couldn't defend them. They're a little more forgivable in context.

"I understand why you turned to drugs to try to cope with all this. Anyone would have hit a breaking point."

"It was the only escape extreme enough to work. As fed up with my addiction as the label is by now, at first they enabled it. The execs wanted to be sure I passed for straight. When I was partying and trashing hotel rooms and womanizing, I was legible. I was exactly what you expect from a rock star. The world can connect with that, even the parts that can't stomach a gay kid. My music changed, but it was still profitable and the bad behavior made for plenty of headlines, which is free press. I was much easier to sell as a junkie than as a fag."

"So you really haven't been with a guy since you were sixteen?" Jared thinks on it for a moment. "But you have—?"

"On a good enough high, you'll want to fuck anything," says Jensen. "Every now and then I go with a girl to scratch the itch. But the truth is most of my reputation comes from hitting on every woman I meet so aggressively none of them actually wants to stick around."

"Like with Danneel," Jared says as he realizes it.

Jensen nods. "I was so freaked and every time I looked at you I remembered what a hopeless case I am. I felt like I had to be extra straight to keep the farce going. I hate that I treated someone you care about like that."

"I hate that you felt like you had to be closeted all this time," Jared replies. "Danni will be okay. She's a tough cookie."

Jensen admits, "I could tell. Don't usually pull that garbage on women unless I'm pretty sure they'll have the confidence and self-respect to tell me where to stick it. It's a wonder I don't have more friends or family willing to hang around me for long, huh?"

"Surely your parents have seen how much you've suffered because of this," Jared tries. "Haven't they acknowledged how wrong they were?"

Jensen's expression is too flippant to be a frown, but it's teetering on the edge of it. "I thought staying in the closet would help things with Mom and Dad. After all, I never embarrassed them publicly. They were the only ones who knew I was gay. No reason we couldn't just go on pretending it never happened. I mean, fuck. After what I did to Matt for them. I thought they could figure out how to love me again."

"They haven't?"

"No idea. I doubt it." Jensen shakes his head. "We haven't talked since I left Texas to promote _All Hell Breaks Loose_ , and I don't get the sense that they miss me. I've done so much stupid crap trying to impress them. Became famous, won Grammys. And they still couldn't be proud of me. Still haven't asked to see me, not even for money. I guess if no one else knows what I am, they still do. Impossible to love, apparently."

"They don't know how to love anything if that's how their love goes," Jared tells him.

"My momma did love me, Jared," Jensen says quietly. "It would be easier to pretend otherwise, but life's not that simple."

"At least you have your sister," he points out. "I'm glad she accepts you."

Jensen is quiet for a long moment. "Mac doesn't know."

"What?" Jared stares at him. "How could she not know?"

"My parents didn't want to infect my brother and sister by telling them what a freak I was, I think. So no one ever did."

"You haven't?" Jared asks. "I thought you guys were super close."

"She's the only family I have," Jensen says. "I mean, my brother and I are okay. We talk on birthdays and holidays and when his daughters want concert tickets. Mac is my heart. I can't lose her the way I did everyone else. If she knew, she wouldn't love me."

"That's not true," Jared says, covering Jensen's hand with his own. "Of course she would."

"I don't live in your world." Jensen sighs. "I would give anything. But I can't risk her. Your whole family accepts you. Even your aunt came around. My parents didn't. I've got one good thing that never turned its back on me."

"I understand." When Jared sees Jensen's skeptical expression, he corrects himself, "As much as I can. I don't truly understand. But I sympathize."

"I'll take that." Jensen looks at him tentatively. "It didn't make sense that you liked me before I told you all this. Let alone wanting more than just friendship. I can't imagine you still have those feelings now."

Jared doesn't hesitate. "I still want you. Of course I do. You have no idea what a rut I was in until this last week. You pulled me out of it. Gave me back all these parts of myself I forgot existed, parts that I needed to heal. Just like you, I couldn't love myself when I'd carved out chunks. I'm starting to be whole again. You did that."

When Jensen doesn't seem convinced, Jared takes his face between both of his hands and tries to go in for a kiss, one deep and long enough to make his feelings clear. But Jensen reaches up, putting his hand over Jared's to draw it away. Stops him, again.

Jared knows it's not right to be frustrated, that Jensen is working through a lot and it's not fair to expect him to go at the rate that makes sense for Jared. But after all the other false starts, he really thought this would be the time. They've said everything there is to say. They're out someplace romantic where the ugliness of Jensen's world seems too far away to ever catch them. And most importantly, Jensen needs this. Maybe not from Jared specifically, he won't pretend he's some godsend, but from someone. He needs someone to tell him it's okay to be who and what he is, to help him see that he's beautiful.

"Why don't you want me to kiss you?" Jared asks.

Jensen doesn't let go of his hands, squeezes them as reassurance. "I want it so much it's painful to stop you."

"So why stop me?" Jared gives him his most imploring look. "Jensen, let yourself have this. Let _us_ have this."

"I will, I just can't…not here, okay?" He looks out at the vast wilderness in front of them and says, "It's too open here."

Jared feels his face contort in hurt anger when he hears why Jensen is still rejecting him. "Do you think I have a photographer up a tree or something? That this was all just some set up? There's no one around to see us for miles. I wouldn't risk outing you."

"What?" Jared is relieved to see the genuine confusion in Jensen's expression and realize that he'd misunderstood. "I know you wouldn't do that. I know, intellectually, that it would be fine. I'm just so used to being watched. I can’t relax out here, not yet. Maybe someday we can…" He smiles shyly. "The only place I feel truly safe to be me is in your little house, with you. I know I was harsh about it, but it feels more like home already than my parents' house ever did."

That makes Jared's heart float to the top of his rib cage. He stands, keeping Jensen's hands in his and helping Jensen to his feet. "Come on, then. Let's go home."

The hike back down to the car is nearly silent, absent Jensen's playful whining and Jared's improvised geology lecture. They both have too much to reflect on after the conversation by the lake, but whenever their eyes meet, Jared can see so much warmth and anticipation in Jensen's expression. He even holds Jared's hand whenever they don't need to steady themselves on rocks for leverage, and even though they're utterly alone on this path, Jared now appreciates how scary it must feel for Jensen to do it at all.

At the trailhead, they rinse off with a hose to keep the mud out of Jared's car and cleanse the sweat from the demanding climb. The drive home is still quiet, but all the way Jared feels the centering weight of Jensen's hand resting on his neck with an unquestioning sense of ownership, his fingers playing with the damp ends of Jared's hair.

* * *

It feels oddly momentous clicking the door closed when they get to Jared's house, finally shutting them in, alone and free to explore everything he knows they've both been imagining the entire drive home.

He turns to look at Jensen, who is hovering by his side, his body language a little awkward, like he's not quite sure where to put his hands. Jared huffs out a laugh at the humanity of the moment, the perfect antidote to all the pressure he could feel beginning to build between them. This doesn't look like Jensen Ackles, the world famous celebrity Jared used to dream about when he was far out of reach. It's Jensen, someone Jared knows and likes, just a person in a vulnerable moment, waiting to see if there's something real here.

"So what do you want to do?" Jared jokes, hoping to cut the tension in a way that will ease Jensen's nerves. "We could play chess, or—"

Jensen has apparently had it with Jared's bantering, because he steps forward even as he's laughing at the clueless way Jared is pretending not to know what they both are waiting for.

“What I want is to do something honest. Just one time.”

He cups Jared's face so tenderly Jared might as well be one of the crystal antiques stacked on the shelves lining the room around them. Then he rises up the few inches between them and kisses Jared, kisses him with abandon, making up for all the times he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance.

Jared returns the kiss for as long as Jensen will let him, until Jensen pulls away, resting his forehead on Jared's as he whispers, "That was honest."

"Honestly, I didn't hate it," Jared says.

Jensen huffs a breath against Jared's lips and kisses him again briefly. "You're an idiot."

"And, also according to you, a nerd." Jared waves his hands in the air. "I contain multitudes."

Tired of waiting, Jensen begins to push Jared towards the hall and kisses him again as he walks him backwards to the master bedroom. His intentions are clear, enough so that Jared worries they might be going too fast as they enter his room with a crash and keep kissing hungrily in the direction of the bed.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jared asks, pulling from the kiss but keeping his hand on Jensen's neck, anchored, so Jensen knows that he's not going anywhere. Jensen dismisses his question with a soft laugh and tries to press in again, so Jared stops him, placing one hand on his chest. "I'm serious. This is big for you, I get that. You don't have to be ready."

"You think there's any part of me that doesn't want to do this right now? Do you have any idea all the times I wanted to do this?" Jensen lowers his eyes to Jared's mouth, like he's considering throwing himself into another kiss even as he's talking. "I'll tell you."

He steps back, framing Jared's face with his hands again. "When I opened the door and saw you for the first time. The way you smiled at me with these damn dimples. I wanted to drape myself all over you right there in front of the cameras. I had to shove you away to stop myself from holding on."

Jared grins as Jensen traces his dimples with the pads of his thumb. "Well, I certainly misread that one."

"Most oblivious man in the world," Jensen mutters, sliding his touch back until his fingers are tucked between strands of Jared's hair. "I thought for sure I'd given myself away when I was high, throwing myself at you. I just wanted you to take the offer, it felt so good to touch you."

"What offer?" Jared asks.

Jensen laughs and shakes his head. "I grabbed your hips and told you I'd do anything you wanted. What did you think I was getting at?"

"I don't know." Jared shrugs. "I didn't think you knew what the hell you were doing."

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Jensen says. "I just couldn’t stop myself from doing it."

"I figured it out eventually," Jared defends. "I'm not _that_ oblivious."

"Shh," Jensen says. "You asked if I was sure I wanted this, and I'm not done answering."

"Okay," Jared agrees. "I'll just stand here and be objectified."

"Good boy." Jensen pats his cheek. "When I was talking to Misha, you kept distracting me."

"I wasn't even in the hou—"

Jensen rolls right on like he can't hear Jared. "Every time I looked out the window I saw you sitting there with your book. Me and all my issues didn't even exist to you, you were so deep in whatever you were reading. You had this little wrinkle right here from concentrating." He smiles as he rubs the space between Jared's eyebrows. "All I wanted was to kiss it. You ever been tormented by a forehead wrinkle, Jared?"

"Can't say that I have, no," Jared admits.

"It feels stupid," he says. "Did you know that your sister between us on the couch saved me from begging you to let me sit in your lap? I don't know how many times I thought about it. And then the next morning, you pulled up your shirt at one point…" Jensen raises the bottom of Jared's shirt and ducks down to press a kiss against his stomach. "There. That's off the bucket list."

He stands back to his full height but doesn't lower Jared's shirt, choosing instead to push it up until it's bunched at his armpits. Jared lifts his arms in the air to allow Jensen to finish pulling it the rest of the way off.

"When we went running and you kept stretching, you goddamn Boy Scout, didn't even care what it was doing to me." Jensen tosses Jared's shirt aside thoughtlessly and begins working his hands down Jared's body, over his arms and then his sides. "I thought my brain was going to explode trying to make sense of how you were put together. All those long muscles on display. Like someone carved you out of marble and then brought you to life just to torture me."

Jensen's roving touch definitely gets his revenge as Jared starts to feel more than a little tortured himself.

"Let's see, what else?"

"I think I got the point," Jared tells him. "We can skip to the next part."

"No, no, no. You weren't convinced I want to do this. Can't have that." Jensen bites his bottom lip as his eyes scan over Jared, like he's trying to decide what to fixate on next. "I wanted to do this at that party, when I saw you so loose and easy around your friends, nothing like the way you stayed guarded around me. I wanted you loose like that when it was just us."

Jared frowns at the thought that he made Jensen feel so unwelcome, but Jensen doesn’t let him try to apologize. He creates a distraction by pushing Jared a few steps until his back hits the wall.

"When we went swimming. I'm a pretty competitive person, but watching the way that tremendous back of yours rippled more than the water every time you moved your arms? I didn't mind lagging behind. Lucky thing the water was so cold or I might have turned into a little floating pile of ash."

Jared starts to laugh as Jensen takes his hand and presses a kiss to the palm of it. "And when we came home that night and spent all those hours playing video games, did you know that I was just looking at these long fingers on the buttons? Obsessing over how small the controller looked in your grip. I wanted these big hands right here."

Jensen takes Jared's hand and guides it down, tucking it into his jeans after opening the top, so Jared can feel the bulge of his cock.

"When I held you and your guitar in my arms, pretending I just wanted to give you a lesson. I wanted to fuck you. I wanted to spread you out on that soundboard and fuck you at that studio. I wanted…" Jensen breaks for a moment while Jared finishes undoing his pants but he's back at it as Jared returns the favor of stripping his shirt away. "Haven't been good these last few days, Jared. All these filthy thoughts fillin' my head. I wanted to close the door to your childhood bedroom and drop to my knees, suck you off thinking about all the times you touched yourself fantasizing about me as some horny kid who didn't know he could have it someday. In the car, I thought about my head in your lap. And watching how sloppy you got with that pretty pink mouth eating the dinner I helped your momma make for you. I almost got hard right there at the table thinking you could swallow me down with that much enthusiasm. I wanted you to bend me over that bridge and take it right out of me."

"I guess I should have asked if you wanted anything _other_ than this," Jared says as Jensen begins working off his belt. "Seems like you haven't had much time to do anything _but_ think about fucking me."

"I made some hash, too," Jensen jokes. But then his expression gets much more serious. “I wanted you all those times and I want you right now. I'm sure. I'm so sure. I can’t leave here without having had you inside me.”

Jared can’t resist ruining the moment just a little. “Is that, like, a tourism thing? ‘You haven’t been to Austin until you’ve done these five things—number four will shock you!’”

Jensen tries very hard not to let amusement show as he rubs his temple. “This is a very big moment for me. Please stop talking.” 

"Me stop talking?" Jared asks. "You get to go on a thirty minute long sermon about how hot you think my forehead wrinkles are and I can't make one jo—?"

The answer is evidently yes, because Jensen shuts him up with a kiss as he steers Jared to the foot of his own bed and tucks his head, throwing all his weight into his shoulder and tackling Jared down onto the mattress.

They land with a soft bounce and Jensen immediately is back on task, kneeling next to Jared on the mattress and slipping his fingers under the elastic of his underwear. Once he has Jared completely naked, he looks his fill. And looks. And just keeps looking. Jared would feel self-conscious being inspected like this if not for the way Jensen bites his knuckles, eyes wide as they linger on his cock.

Finally, after a long period of quiet contemplation, Jensen puts his hand on Jared's hipbone and says, "I got a clean bill of health during intake at my last rehab. I never inject. And I haven't been with anyone since."

Jared's mouth drops open stupidly as he realizes what Jensen is offering him, and he nearly laughs at the absurdity of life. The things you end up grateful for. Jared had gotten tested after Stephen left, convinced his boyfriend had been unfaithful in the months they drifted apart and concerned by the fact that they'd stopped using protection years before when they became exclusive. He'd even made excuses for the cheating, telling himself it was his fault for withdrawing. Now, it genuinely feels like a blessing, because he can honestly say, "I don't have anything either."

The expression that registers on Jensen's face when he hears that is so ecstatic it borders on relief, like Jared might have broken his heart if he'd said they couldn't do this raw.

"Yeah?" he asks. "I want your skin on mine. I don't want anything between us."

Jared rolls away from him, opening the top of his nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. Bypassing the brand new box of condoms he bought on a whim a few weeks ago, trying to convince himself to go out and have some meaningless fling to help him move on. He's now very glad he never got around to acting on that.

When he turns back, Jensen has reversed positions with him entirely. He's now the one kneeling on the mattress next to Jensen, who is lying on his back after removing the boxers and socks that he'd still been wearing when they fell into bed.

Jared's eyes go immediately to his dick, something he's been dreaming of seeing since he was hardly old enough to understand the instinct. Jensen's cock is long and pale, blushing a pretty shade of pink at the tip and standing upright against his stomach. Jared nearly whimpers and thinks he might actually be drooling as he sees that there are freckles even here and imagines Jensen floating in his own pool in Los Angeles the way he had in Jared's, completely bare under the California sun.

"My eyes are up here," Jensen jokes.

"Been there, stared at that," Jared mutters as he reaches out and grips Jensen's cock, giving it a couple of strokes even though Jensen doesn't really need it, just to have a sense of its heft in his palm. "You get this hard for little ol' me?"

"If we're gonna make this a regular thing, we gotta work on your dirty talk," Jensen says. "Now fuck me."

Jared can't help laughing at that, telling him, "Yours certainly doesn't need any help."

"Fuck me!" Jensen repeats in frustration and fine, okay, god. Jared will fuck Jensen Ackles if it's such a big emergency.

He flips the lid on his lube and squeezes out a healthy amount, slapping Jensen lightly on his very well-muscled thigh as he says, "Turn over."

"You just want to see my ass." As he accuses Jared, Jensen obediently gets onto his stomach, giving Jared a spectacular view of it.

"It'll also be easier to open you up like this. I'm trying to be considerate of your poor, almost-virgin body." Jared grins as he circles Jensen's hole with his slick index finger and then presses in, making Jensen shiver all over. "But yeah, I wanna see your ass."

He takes advantage of the privilege as he fucks two fingers into Jensen, not trying to go too fast, but eagerly responding to how relaxed Jensen is for him. It's not exactly news to Jared that Jensen is in shape, but his perfectly rounded ass still comes with some fun surprises. "Did you know you have freckles _everywhere_?"

"The aliens were very detail oriented when they made me," Jensen replies, shaking his hips a little so that he rocks playfully on Jared's hand. 

Jared is now just relieved Jensen can't see him blushing. "Okay, who told you about the genetically engineered beauty alien theory?"

"Your brother," Jensen says, breaking off with a moan when Jared crooks his fingers before finishing his thought, "when you went into the kitchen to get the cake."

Jared growls. "Oh, we are so not talking about my brother right now."

"Use that anger," Jensen tells him. "Make me sorry."

He laughs, thinking it's a dangerous road to go down, rewarding Jensen for bad behavior. But he does as instructed, fingers fucking in until he's got Jensen desperate, demanding and whiny as he writhes under Jared.

Jensen reaches back, catching Jared's wrist and pulling it away from his body as he turns his head to look at him. "I want to see you when we do this."

"It'll be easier for you this way," Jared reminds him.

Already Jensen is rolling over, ignoring his warning. "If I can still feel you when I leave here, I'll consider that a pretty great souvenir."

The reminder that they only have two more days together makes Jared pause for a moment, frowning, but Jensen immediately sits up and distracts him, curling a hand in Jared's hair as he draws him into a long, languid kiss. There's no point in lingering on the inevitable. Right now they have this, and the way Jensen kisses makes it easy to believe that right now will last forever.

When he breaks, Jensen whispers, "Jared, please."

Their teasing back and forth gets replaced by a slower push and pull as they adjust to a new position, Jensen's feet curled around Jared's neck as Jared supports his weight on his arms and knees so that his dick is level with Jensen's hole. He worries that Jensen must be uncomfortable bent like this until one of Jensen's hands reaches down to grab his ass, urging him on.

Jared eases forward then, starting slow and measured, making sure to give Jensen a chance to adjust to him as he sinks in. The position makes it easy to pull out and thrust all the way again, and with Jensen's encouragement, Jared falls into that pattern quickly. The rhythm isn't rough so much as frantic, both of them needing this same release, albeit for vastly different reasons.

It's not until he's lost in the warm, satisfying vice of Jensen's body that Jared remembers how good fucking can be. For months, his sex with Stephen consisted of his boyfriend on top of him, taking what he wanted and what Jared felt he was supposed to give. It was good and he enjoyed it well enough, but his general state of exhaustion and depression by that point made it so that when Stephen finished and pulled out, Jared was more relieved at the fact that it meant he could try to get some sleep, and his own orgasm was often an afterthought.

Now that Jared's in control of what he and Jensen are doing, it feels like he's taking back yet another part of himself that he'd lost, and he delights in the sensations, in the way Jensen is moaning and begging for him to keep going just like this, in the affirmation of being an active participant in both his own and his partner's pleasure. And Jared can't even begin to try to tease out all the ways this is meaningful to Jensen after everything he's learned in the last few days, because it's kind of hard to focus on much more than his dick and the friction they're creating.

"I'm close," Jensen tells him, and he tangles his toes in Jared's hair, tugging playfully. "Can we move down? I want you to touch me."

Jared turns his face briefly to press a kiss against Jensen's ankle and then he pulls out, helping Jensen lower his legs until they're spread wide apart on the bed and Jared can reach his cock where it's trapped between them. He dives back in then and speeds his hips to try to catch up, jerking Jensen's dick and watching the lines at the corners of his eyes scrunch up as he tenses. Jensen reaches out, lacing his hands around Jared's neck and lifting himself just enough off the bed for their lips to meet. They're still kissing when Jared feels the wet rush of Jensen's release.

It doesn't take much more than that. Jared keeps fucking as Jensen's ass tightens and then relaxes on his dick, and once he gets a look at the satisfied, gentle smile on Jensen's face as he pants to regain his breath, Jared knows he's done. His climax begins in his fingers and his toes and the tip of his tongue as it traces Jensen's bottom lip but it crashes inside of him like waves all meeting in the center, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest and dick finally spilling into Jensen. He remembers then that there's no condom between them, that he's coating Jensen's insides with his seed, and damned if that doesn't just make him come harder.

He collapses, body blanketing Jensen, but Jared guesses he doesn't mind much based on the way he presses his lips to Jared's shoulder blade and runs his hands up and down his spine, soothing him as he collects himself.

"Should I get out of you?" Jared asks once his breathing is back to normal.

Jensen huffs a laugh against his neck as he plays with Jared's hair and says, "Not on my account."

Jared shifts anyway, pulling out and rolling onto his back next to Jensen, tucking a hand behind his head. "How was that?"

"That," Jensen says, moving until he's leaning over Jared and kissing him, "was worth waiting for."

"You waited eight days," Jared points out. "I've been wanting that since I was twelve."

Shaking his head, Jensen puts his hand on Jared's cheek, says, "No. I've been waiting a long time for you."

He isn't sure what he's supposed to say to that, and Jensen spares him trying to figure it out. "Well, how about you? Did I somehow live up to the hype?"

"And then some," Jared assures him.

Jensen smiles at that like it wasn't a given, and they're both quiet for a long time. It's mostly comfortable, but there is an edge of awkwardness, Jared realizes, in the fact that he's not sure where they go from here. Maybe Jensen was waiting for a safe way to indulge, and that's as far as this is going to go. There are so many complications beyond the simple joy they've allowed themselves in this room. Jensen is still closeted, his career still hangs on that, and Jared is still a nobody who lives halfway across the country. They have two days and the questions still left to answer are way too big to tackle in that time.

"Hey, Jared," Jensen says, cutting through his increasingly depressing thought process.

"Yeah," Jared replies, turning his attention 100% to the dream-come-true lying next to him, looking at Jared like _he's_ the special one.

"I've got these unsettling glass figurines in my room and I can't help noticing you don't."

"I guess you'll have to stay here tonight, in that case," Jared replies, picking up on Jensen's hint.

Jensen smiles bright at that and rests his face against Jared's chest; Jared falls asleep effortlessly with the weight of Jensen on his heart.


	9. Day Nine

There's a soft hum and an even softer touch circling around Jared as he rouses the next morning. Both the sound and the sensation are muted enough that Jared feels reasonably sure they aren't what woke him, and when he opens his eyes, Jensen seems like he made himself comfortable hours ago, turned on his side facing Jared.

"Hi," he says when he sees Jared staring back.

"Have you been watching me sleep?" Jared asks. "What a creep."

Jensen laughs and looks down at the sheets. "Apparently getting my ass pounded doesn't magically cure my insomnia."

"You serious?" Jared asks incredulously. "I've gotta get my dick inspected. Find out why it's not working right."

"Believe me, it's working just fine." Jensen moves down, giving Jared a fleeting morning kiss. He tastes a bit like toothpaste, which makes Jared understand why he wasn't eager to deepen the kiss and taste Jared's morning breath. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, real good." Jared frowns. "Did you get any rest at all?"

"More than I usually do, less than a regular person," Jensen replies, brushing off Jared's concern.

"I guess that's something." Jared sits up, preparing to rise from the bed. "I gotta brush my teeth and take a piss."

Laughing, Jensen says, "And I was worried the romance might wear off after we consummated this thing. Glad to know I was wrong."

Jared flips him the bird as he shuffles to his bathroom and closes the door. By the time he's finished, Jensen has disappeared from the bedroom and Jared can already smell the scent of coffee all the way down the hallway.

He's on his way to meet up in the kitchen, but he gets stopped at the door by Jensen, whose hands are full with two plates of scrambled eggs and toast.

"The coffee's still brewing," he says as he allows Jared to take one of the plates, but he blocks the exit from Jared's bedroom, pointing with his free hand to direct Jared back where he came from. "I will bring you yours. Get back in bed."

"Back in bed?" Jared asks. "We should get ready for jet skiing."

"You and I can ride jet skis together some other time," Jensen says firmly. "If you think I'm letting you out of bed today, you need to think again. I will _maybe_ allow you to join me in the living room for take-out at dinnertime, but even that is not a given. I might make you eat that in here, too."

"I should mention that I have a strict 'no food in my bedroom' policy," Jared informs him.

Jensen looks him dead in the eye as he sits on Jared's bed and lifts his toast to his mouth, taking a pronounced bite.

"Okay," Jared says. "Special dispensation for today and today only."

The 800 pound gorilla in the room calls out a reminder that today is pretty much all they have, and Jensen must hear it, too, because he winces, hurrying away to fetch their coffee before Jared can try to address the fact.

He climbs back onto the mattress and begins to munch on his toast, returning the smile Jensen beams at him when he reappears with their coffee. When he curls up cross-legged on the bed next to Jared, Jensen pulls the mug back, holding it hostage until Jared gives him a kiss. Then they enjoy their breakfast quietly, set their empty plates aside on the floor, and allow making out to lead unsurprisingly to more robust physical activities for a good chunk of the day.

"I can't believe how long it took us to get here," Jared says, staring up at the ceiling as they both recover from the latest round. "To think we could have been doing this all week. We wasted so much time and now there's only—"

Jensen kisses him, effectively shutting him up, and Jared sighs when he pulls away, getting the message. He doesn't want to talk about tomorrow, but tomorrow is going to happen whether they ignore it or not.

"I don’t want this to end," Jared tells him.

For a long time, there's only silence between them. Finally, Jensen asks, "Then why should it?"

"The contest?" Jared reminds him. "They're coming to get you tomorrow."

"What, do you think I don't know that?" Jensen snaps in a tone Jared hasn't heard from him in nearly a week. The hurt must show in Jared's face, because Jensen softens his next words. "Just because the contest ends doesn't mean this has to."

Jared feels himself smile a little bit, glad to hear Jensen might also want to cultivate whatever is beginning to blossom between them. He honestly wasn't sure. "What did you have in mind?"

Jensen grins like he's just been waiting for a chance to share his plans and he rolls on top of Jared, pushing both of his hands into Jared's hair and kissing him deeply before saying. "You finally getting the treatment you deserve. I've got this vision of you, tan and perfect, lying by my pool being waited on hand and foot instead of wearing yourself down taking care of others. You did that already. It's your turn to get looked after."

Jared snorts, but he likes the thought of a vacation like that, maybe ten days in Jensen's shoes to trade off from this unexpectedly successful experiment of theirs. "I've never considered being a kept woman before."

"I'm going to give you everything, Jared. You name it." Jensen looks down at him seriously. "You want to renovate a house? I've got a mansion—that'll keep you busy. You want to go back to school? Pick one. I'll get them to name a whole damn building after you. Whatever you want to do, I'm going to make it possible. You want to be famous? Want your friends to be famous? Done. I'm going to write songs for you. I'm going to…" Jensen swallows hard, and it looks like it takes an effort, but he forces the words out, "I'll come out for you. I don't care what it does to my career. I can't go back to how I felt ten days ago, not after knowing life can be like this. I won't leave here without you."

"Slow down," Jared says, laughing a little at the absurdity of Jensen's daydreaming. It's nice and all, but he doesn't want a fantasy built on big, unlikely promises. He wants something he can believe in. "Let's start a little smaller."

"Fuck smaller," Jensen replies emphatically, which is when Jared realizes with no small amount of discomfort that every word he'd said before was in earnest. "I've been living small for my entire adult life. I've finally got you. We're going big."

"Think about what you're saying, man," Jared tells him. "You can't blow up your career overnight just for me and I can't leave everything to be with you."

"Well, why not?" Jensen's lips twist as he adds, "It's my career to do what I want with and you don't exactly have a lot going on."

It's disappointing to see Jensen fall back into old habits, but Jared understands him now. Instead of letting the insensitivity of Jensen's comment upset him like he might have a week ago, he cups Jensen's cheek and says, "Don't do that. Don't lash out at me. I'm not rejecting you. I'm just asking you to be realistic."

"But don't you get it?" Jensen urges, slapping his hand down on the blanket between them in frustration. "I can really give you those things. What's impossible for most people is easy for me. There's no reason to turn it down. I'm ready to give you the entire world on a silver platter. I thought you wanted more than this."

"I do." Jared shrugs. "Within reason. I'm a simple guy. I like my life here, for the most part. Some things need updating, sure, but that's all stuff I need to fix for myself."

"Okay," Jensen replies with surprising ease. He takes a few moments to recalibrate and then he's off again. "You're right. I can figure that out. We'll live here. I love this house. I'll have to go sometimes for tours and press stuff." Jensen smiles as he talks, growing more excited with every word. "God, of course, I don't want to drag you into my same old mess. We can have a normal life here, just like the last ten days, but without the expiration date. That's so much better. I'll deal with my music stuff when I need to and the rest of the time, it'll be just like this for us."

"That all sounds great—" Jared starts.

Jensen smiles wide. "Yes, great, see? There's nothing to worry about."

He frowns, hating to have to do this. "But."

Jensen's face falls and he shakes his head. "No but. Why? There doesn't have to be one."

"You're not thinking clearly," Jared says.

"I'm not tripping out over here," Jensen tells him. "I know what it feels like to not think clearly. I'm clear on this. I'll give you _anything_. I will do _anything_. Don't you at least want to use me?"

"Don't you think you deserve better than that?" Jared asks, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.

"I don't care what I deserve. What I want is you. However I can have you. If that's just for my money or fame or until you find something better, I'll take it." Jensen looks him directly in the eyes and says, "I love you, Jared."

Jared feels bad that his natural reaction is to scoff, because Jensen's face looks so betrayed. Still, he has to keep them grounded here. "You don't love me. That's ridiculous. We met nine days ago. We can't be in love."

"Fuck you," Jensen replies. "Maybe I’m pathetic, but it is love. You know me better than _anyone_ has ever known me. I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone. And I’ve let myself know you more than I’ve wanted to be close to anyone since before I can remember. You don’t have to feel the same, but don’t tell me I don’t love you."

It breaks Jared's heart to realize where Jensen is coming from, why he genuinely believes what he's saying. The innocent glow in his face when he told Jared about their future together contrasted against the crushing sadness when Jared rebuffed him make it hard to miss. Those emotional extremes are common enough at a certain point in life, a point at which Jensen was traumatized. Evidently, he never moved on from it.

Jensen was a goddamn kid the last time he felt like this. The only love he's ever known was the first, the all-encompassing passion that comes with the blush of a new love is as sophisticated as it's ever gotten for him. In his head, he and Matt might have been forever if not for what his parents did, and the relationship would always have been as easy for them as it was at that camp. Jensen never got the chance to go in for the long haul, so he's never had to put in the work or weathered the years of disillusionment and reigniting that you have to get through for a love to mature out of this infatuation he knows they both have for each other. Jensen is stunted, and if Jared doesn't hurt them both a little right now, this is going to end exactly the same way Jensen's first and last love did. Ugly.

"I don't think we can be together," Jared says, slow and measured, trying to deliver the blow with as little force as possible.

Several emotions flash across Jensen's face in the next few seconds: anger, pain, the confusion worst of all. There are tears building in his eyes when he asks, "So what was this, then? You just wanted to prove that you could fuck Jensen Ackles?"

He tries to take Jensen's hands, but Jensen pulls them back. "Will you give me a chance to explain?"

Jensen shakes his head petulantly before wiping at his eyes. Then he takes a deep, steadying breath and nods, though he's still pouting in a way that would be pretty adorable under any other circumstances.

"I don't think we can be together _right now_ ," Jared repeats himself but gives emphasis to the part he didn't get to say before. He steels himself against a flash of uncomfortable memories before asking, "Can I tell you what happened with Stephen?"

"I'm not him," Jensen says heatedly.

Jared sighs. "I know that."

"You still love him, is that it? You're going to throw this," Jensen gestures between them, "away for some idiot who didn't know how good he had it?"

"You can keep working yourself up or you could actually let me explain where I'm coming from," Jared says shortly. "Either way works for me, I guess."

Jensen scrubs his hand over his face and centers himself for a moment before he says, "Alright, I'm sorry. Say what you have to say."

"Our relationship worked for years, but even when it was good, it wasn't built on a strong foundation. I know—I _was_ taking too much of the blame for our break up. I think you were right that he did some pretty fucked up stuff. But the truth is that I created that situation. Because from the start, I never made him put in the effort. That's my default setting. I try to make things easy for people. All the hard parts of maintaining the relationship were on me, he never had to worry about it. So of course he got used to not worrying about it." Jared bites his lip and shrugs. "Then suddenly I couldn't anymore. As soon as I got too beaten down by watching Dee die to keep doing all the emotional labor, there was no one to hold us together."

"I can do that work," Jensen promises. "I _want_ to."

"I know you do." Jared takes his hand and this time Jensen lets him. "But you can't right away. Think about it. You're still struggling with your addiction. You said you would come out _for me_. I can't be the thing you depend on to stay sober. I can't be the reason you come out. You need to make those choices for yourself. That way even if we do break up someday, you'll still be able to take care of yourself. Once you can do all that, you'll be in the right place for a relationship with someone. I would very much like to be that someone, if it works out."

"I won't ever be able to…" Jensen shakes his head. "I need you to keep me honest. It's too hard alone."

"I don't believe that," Jared tells him. "I know you can do it. And you don't have to be alone. Take your own advice. You have friends who want to help you. Let them. Getting your shit together doesn't have to be something you do without support. I just can't be your only support. I care about you too much to set you up to fail like that, even if I really _do_ want to be with you."

"How long?" Jensen asks. "How long am I supposed to keep it together without you?"

Jared thinks about that for a bit. "Let’s give it six months and see where we are. We can revaluate then, whether we need more time or not. That feels like long enough to make a difference."

"Six months is an eternity," Jensen mutters. "I'm holding you to it. Not a day over."

"Sounds fair." Jared pats Jensen's cheek playfully and tries to smile in a way that's convincing. "You think I wanna give you too much time? It'll be a miracle if you even remember I exist by the end of six months."

"Yeah, right," Jensen says thinly.

Jared can see that he's still bummed out but hopes he's gotten through a little bit, too. "You do understand where I'm coming from, don't you?"

Grudgingly, Jensen nods. "Still fucking sucks, though."

"I know it sucks. Change sucks. Self-improvement _really_ sucks. But nothing gets better without it. You have a lot of hard decisions ahead of you and it's going to suck making them. For example…I can't tell you to come out. That's such a big choice." Jared scratches his neck and admits, "I can't be someone's secret, though."

"God, no," Jensen says, taking Jared's hand and pressing his lips to Jared's knuckles as he holds onto it tightly. "I would never make you live the way I've had to. Couldn't let it poison you like it did to me."

"I'm going to work on me, too, Jensen," Jared assures him. "This isn't just about your imperfections. There's plenty I need to fix. I'm going to make a plan for myself, decide what I want and how to get it. Once we both have our lives figured out, we can see how they might fit together. I truly believe they will."

Jensen closes his eyes and quietly sits next to Jared, just breathing in and out for several minutes. When he opens his eyes, they're a little red, like this whole time he was fighting back tears. But his voice is under control as he says, "Can we still have today? If we have to be apart, I get it. But if I can just have this one perfect day with you. Something I can remember when I'm close to relapsing, to hold onto and remind myself what I'm fighting for. There's no harm in that, right? I have to be here, anyway. I wasted so many days being afraid of you. Please give me today."

"Yeah, I like that," Jared replies, smiling easily. "From here on out, we don't talk about—we don't even have to think about tomorrow. We can just be together today."

Jensen curls up in his arms, spooning against Jared's chest. They hold each other like that for a while without saying anything. Eventually, one of them makes a move, and they get back to exploring each other's bodies until they're both spent and starving. True to his word, Jensen only lets Jared out of bed to order Thai food and they eat it on the couch half-watching made-for-TV movies and half-shooting the shit.

It's early evening when Jared looks over and sees that Jensen is watching him with a sad look on his face and a tremor in his hands. He has an idea that's a little unusual, but it makes him smile just to think of it, and he genuinely believes it might help Jensen. Might be something he can take with him from here, a way for Jared to help from afar and stay on his mind when they’re separated.

"Have you ever crocheted?" he asks.

Jensen raises an eyebrow at him. "What do you think?"

Jared gets up and crosses the room, pulling materials out that he hasn't touched since Dee died. He carries over some yarn and hooks and a box of supplies they'll need and begins to set them out on the coffee table.

"I'm going to teach you," Jared tells him.

"You want to teach me how to crochet?" Jensen punctuates the question with a laugh. "Why?"

"Because it'll keep your hands busy and your mind focused." He wraps his arms around Jensen as he helps him learn how to position his hands, much the same way Jensen had done with the guitar. "And it's fun. You might pick up a new hobby. I know you love those."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Jensen says, turning his face just enough for Jared to see his smirk. "I invented this move."

Jared laughs, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss and confirming, "I do want to fuck you. But I'm not just trying to be suave. I really think you'll like this."

Jensen huffs with amusement as he settles in to learn. "If my dealer could see me now."


	10. Day Ten

By the next morning, their bubble bursts. There's just no honest way for Jared to not think about Jensen leaving while simultaneously watching the guy pack his bag.

They start the day making breakfast together, Jensen folding omelettes while Jared works on microwaving sausages and brewing coffee. It's easy and comfortable to work and move around the space of the kitchen after so many days navigating each other, and Jared tries to think of that as a promising sign for the future rather than get caught up in the dull ache of imagining how different it'll feel to wake up alone tomorrow.

When they sit down to eat, they stare what's coming in just a few hours in the face, making a game out of the future rather than avoiding it.

"Where?" Jensen asks, laughing at Jared's latest prediction.

"You heard me, Ackles. The moon. You're going to the moon."

"In the next six months?" Jensen asks incredulously. Jared nods, very sincere, and Jensen rolls his eyes at him. "Who do I look like to you, Lance Bass?"

"Not so much these days, but circa the early-2000s?" Jared grins. "Uncanny."

"Frosted tips were _in_ ," Jensen argues. "I was a child! Completely at the mercy of my stylists."

"Sure, blame the stylists," Jared says. "I knew better than to bleach my hair and I was even younger."

"It didn't seem to put you off too much." Jensen raises an eyebrow at Jared. "I think I remember having those frosted tips in the photoshoot I did for Tiger Beat. You know, the one you hung on the wall over your bed and got caught kissing once?"

Jared hides his face in his hands, mutters, "I really hate that you met my family."

Victorious, Jensen barks a laugh and kicks Jared lightly under the table. "Alright, but do I make it back from the moon in time for our rendezvous?"

"I can't share too much about your future, Jensen," Jared tells him, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. "It is forbidden knowledge."

Jensen smiles at him with open amusement, and Jared returns his kick. "Besides, it's your turn. Where do you see me?

"I've got nothing," Jensen says, though he appears to be suddenly less chipper than when it was Jared's turn to make something up. "You've shot down all my best guesses."

"I think deep down you knew that there was no Olympic gold medal for crocheting," Jared points out, hoping to shake off whatever's bothering Jensen by reminding him how much fun this was five minutes ago.

"Taken," he says in a muted tone.

Jared's smile dies on his face as he asks, "What?"

Jensen clears his throat and keeps his eyes off Jared. "In six months you'll be taken. I don't see any real future in which that's not the case."

"You really think you have to worry about that more than I do?" Jared asks, laughing dismissively.

Jensen lifts his eyes then, finally meeting Jared's, and he doesn't waver for even a second. "Yes."

Jared could point out all the people who will throw themselves at Jensen in the next few months, dwell on how many attractive fans he has and how many movie stars he meets, but he knows there's no point. It's clear from the way he says it that Jensen has already made up his mind.

"This is exactly why we have to do this," Jared says instead. "You can't spend this time thinking like that, obsessing about all the ways things might go wrong. It has to be about believing things can be better than they have been and working towards that."

Jensen nods. "I know. I'm going to do my best. I just wish there was some way to be sure…" He sighs. "Not that I want you to wait around. If you meet someone, you should explore it. Can't put your life on hold just because I'm a mess—"

"Jensen, I think we _both_ need to use this time to clean up our messes. Me just as much as you."

Huffing dismissively, Jensen sulks, and Jared rolls his eyes, deciding this is _not_ how they're going to spend their last hour and a half together.

"Hey, let's go get ready," he says and when Jensen looks up, wounded, Jared smiles enticingly. "I need a shower and someone to help me reach my back."

That manages to spark Jensen's interest enough to pull him out of his funk, and by the time they're clean, they're back to celebrating what little time they have together instead of doomsaying. They spend the rest of Jensen's visit sharing long, desperate kisses in Jared's room, tucked away from the view of the living room's windows.

The knock at the door comes right at twelve, and Jared pulls back from Jensen's arms, bracing himself to escort Jensen out.

"I guess this is it," he says.

Jensen nods and looks away, but when Jared takes a step toward the door, Jensen grabs his wrist and tugs him back, kissing him again one last time.

There's a second knock, more insistent, and Jared and Jensen's phones both begin to buzz.

"Six months," Jensen says, checking in with Jared.

Jared nods to confirm and they walk out, Jared heading straight for the door and Jensen falling behind to retrieve his things from the guest room.

"Hey," he says, trying his best to be casual as he opens the door to Genevieve and the filming crew, Rich at the back in a pair of sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt. "Welcome back. Jensen should be out any moment."

As if summoned, Jensen appears with his luggage when the crew is finishing filtering into the room and setting down their equipment.

He stops a few feet away from the small crowd, looking from Jared to Genevieve to the other people and as Genevieve is smiling and opening her mouth to greet him, Jensen picks his things up and pushes right past her, out the door, without sparing Jared a glance or a proper word of goodbye.

Jared gets it. He feels the tears prickling in his own eyes and understands too damn well why Jensen couldn't stand for there to be witnesses to this. They're going to shove a camera in his face in a few minutes to get his final input on how things went, and Jensen can't let his emotions show. There's way too much at stake for him.

"So things between you two really didn't improve at all in the last ten days, huh?" says Genevieve's voice as she hands him a small slip of paper. She turns to face him after watching Jensen stomp across the lawn and get into his limo, not even bothering to wait for the driver to come around and put his things in the trunk before slamming the door. Pointing to whatever she just placed in his hand, she adds, "I hope this makes up for it a little bit."

His mind swims when he looks down and sees all the zeros printed on the thin black line and it takes several seconds to realize it's the check. The reason he did this whole thing to begin with. He'd forgotten all about it, and he would hand it right back if that would make the next six months pass more quickly.

He wipes at his eyes as he watches Jensen leave and can't form a response in words. Fuck, he has to pull it together, too.

There's a short, pregnant pause while Genevieve studies Jared closely, and then she glances over, like she's making sure the film crew are too busy setting up to pay attention to them, the noise of their work drowning her out as she whispers, "Did you two…?"

Jared's so shocked by her question that he can't even manage to get a lie together. Instead he says, "You know?"

She nods sadly. Jensen never even told his sister, so the fact the he shared this with his assistant doesn’t quite sit right.

"He told you?"

"Yeah, right," Genevieve replies, laughing dismissively. "As if he would."

Jared smiles at that, happy that if he can't have Jensen right now, he can at least commiserate with someone else who knows him. Someone who clearly cares about him.

"He and I went to camp together as kids," she explains. Jared's face must give away his recognition, because she raises an eyebrow at him. "Wow, he really opened up to you."

"It was a wild ten days," Jared jokes. "Does he know that you know?"

She shrugs. "Honestly, I'm not sure. We were friendly at Chitaqua but not that close. I was one of the violin nerds and Jensen was, as I'm sure you can imagine, the coolest, especially once he started getting attention from the industry. But he was nice to everyone back then."

"That's hard to picture," Jared mutters.

Genevieve laughs. "Anyway, he wasn't the only horny teenager who snuck off to the lake at night to meet up with someone. I spotted him and that guy, what was his name?"

"Matt," Jared tells her.

"Right, Matt. Saw them kissing once. I wasn't gonna say anything. I wasn't out there for bible study myself." She waves it off. "I don't know for sure if he saw me. He's certainly never acknowledged it. But I kinda always suspected him offering me the assistant job wasn't actually because he admired my color coded agenda and had more to do with keeping an eye out, making sure I stayed loyal."

"He didn't mention it to me," says Jared.

She side eyes him. "And he's always so forthcoming."

Jared shrugs. He got a different Jensen. And he's not especially inclined to share.

"I never thought he'd let himself have something like that again." She smiles softly and checks Jared with her shoulder. "I'm really glad he did. You seem like a good guy."

There's a strong sense of relief for Jared as he takes in her genuine concern, a reinforcement that Jared did the right thing and did not toss Jensen out with no one to care for him. He was already confident Jensen is strong enough to stay sober and has more of a support system than he knows. But he nonetheless appreciates the confirmation, and the knowledge that there's always been someone there looking out for him who had a real interest in Jensen's well-being. She hasn't just been cleaning up after him and scheduling his meetings. She's his childhood friend who chose to stick around through the worst.

"I'm pretty great," Jared agrees, joking to pivot from his more serious thoughts.

Genevieve snorts. "Oh, great. Now there are two of you."

They smile with amusement for a few moments and then Rich calls that they’re ready to begin the interview.

Jared turns to shake Genevieve's hand, a cordial goodbye, but at the last moment, he pulls her in instead, hugging her so that he can get close enough to whisper, "Take care of him for me."

He sees the soft smile at the corner of her lips as he's escorted across the room, a flurry of hands patting at his hair and tamping down his clothes as they prepare him for his interview.

A light flashes on, right into Jared's eyes, and behind the camera, Rich begins to read out the questions he was given by the label.

"Alright, Jared," he says. "You've just spent ten days with the biggest name in Rock and Roll, Jensen Ackles. Why don't you start by telling us what you thought about him?"

Jared stares directly into the camera, letting the question sink in. It's a big, big question that he's supposed to give a fraction of an answer to. A soundbite. He could never make a few lousy sounds mean that much. That's Jensen's job.

Things begin to turn awkward as the crew stand around waiting for his answer, and he can feel all of their eyes on him. Then he realizes that's not the audience that matters. Millions of people streaming the special at home don't matter.

Jensen will watch this. It's his only chance to give a proper farewell, the one thing he'll be able to say to Jensen for the next six months. He meets the camera's gaze head on and throws all the emotion and honesty that he can into his words, so that Jensen can feel in his bones that Jared wasn't lying about wanting to be with him in the end.

Then he says, quite simply, “He’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met."


	11. Epilogue

“You sure you don’t want help getting to your room?” Jeff smirks at him as he holds the door open, and Jensen moves slowly making his exit, enjoying the way his driver’s eyes linger on him. “Seems like tonight’s show really wore you out.”

“Looking forward to a quiet night alone,” Jensen says, smiling as warmly as he can, so Jeff knows the rejection isn’t personal. Some other night, Jensen would have been eager to accept. Wild oats and all. But, well.

Jensen had no plans to be alone tonight. He’s spent the first half of his tour counting down the days to this stop, dreaming of what it would be like to return to Austin. He knew in the back of his head that it wasn’t a given, that he should temper his expectations. It’s hard to do that when the fantasy is so alluring.

His feet are firmly back on the ground now. There’s no reunion coming, no future to plan after the summer circuit, no oversized body to warm the bleached hotel sheets. Jared didn’t show. He didn’t hear. He made another choice, and it’s not like Jensen can blame him for it.

“Have a good night then, Mr. Ackles.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” Jensen says, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the hotel’s back entrance.

It’s been well over a decade since Jensen stopped being able to enter buildings through the front lobby, though there have certainly been plenty of times when he’s done it just for the attention. Today he’s more grateful than usual to have the privacy of a service entrance and elevator as he struggles to keep his emotions from showing on his face. Or, failing that, at least not cry before he’s even made it to his room.

The long carpeted hallway seems like it’s ten miles long and his mind is screaming some new nightmare with every step. _He didn’t show. He doesn’t want you. He never cared._

Jensen shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts, and instead of giving in to the desire to beat himself up, he congratulates himself on having the foresight to ask the hotel staff to empty the minibar before he arrived. All he has to do is get through the door and lock himself in for the night. He can sulk as much as he wants, as long as he stays dry.

Maybe it's not too late to request a treadmill be brought to his room…Jensen immediately dismisses that idea. Replacing his drug habit with an exercise habit is a neat trick he picked up trying to outrun his cravings while locked in at Jared's house, and reminders of what it was like to be there are not a safe path to tread tonight.

Right now, he just needs to prove to himself that he can make it to the morning. Tomorrow he’ll start working on a plan for some new future. It won’t be as good as the one that had Jared in it, but he can get through it. Jared was wise enough to insist he learn how to do this on his own, so now Jensen knows he can.

The door yells at him when he taps his keycard, or at least it feels like that with the way the beep cuts clean through his thought process. Jensen pushes his way into his suite, beginning to fumble for the light switch until he realizes there’s already a lamp on in the bedroom and someone is standing at the window.

Security protocols exist for this kind of situation, and Jensen has been through all of them before. Some eager fan could have greased a maid’s palms to get a key to his room, and he’s supposed to quietly back out, call for help. Not walk right in. 

But the thing is, Jensen recognizes those shoulders and the messy back of this head, even if he hasn’t seen them in six months. He may not have known Jared for long, but if there’s one thing Jensen can do, it’s committing a good song to memory. He could have identified this silhouette within a minute of meeting the guy.

Jensen leans against the wall partitioning the entrance from the living area for a long few moments, taking deep breaths to try to reconcile all the emotions he’s experiencing. Short of a few suicide Tuesdays, the crushing defeat he’d felt thinking Jared had chosen not to come was a record low, and all in a moment that disappointment is swept away in a tsunami of confusion, hope, certainty. That’s Jared, standing at the window of his hotel room, staring out at his city with no clue that Jensen is watching him. It has to mean something.

“I was worried this might be a Misery thing,” Jensen says once he’s finally confident he’ll have his voice under control. “But you’re no fan of mine.”

He watches Jared do a slight jump at the sound of his voice, surprised out of his own musings, and then he turns, and his smile is wider and brighter than the Pearly Gates could ever hope to be.

“I’m a fan,” Jared insists, holding his blazer open to reveal a lanyard with VIP tickets dangling around his neck, resting over the familiar silkscreen logo of a shirt bought from Jensen’s merch shop. “See? I’ve even got the swag to prove it.”

“I hope you didn’t pay for that. I could have sent you one for free with the tickets.” He takes a few steps forward, just enough to be in arm’s reach, and then he picks up the lanyard, flicking it. “Glad you used this after all. When you weren’t backstage with Meg and Danneel, I thought…”

“I asked Genevieve if she could let me in here,” Jared explains. “The girls didn’t tell you?”

“No. No one said anything. I thought you’d decided it would be better if we didn’t see each other. Or that you hadn’t even come to the concert.”

“Of course I went to the concert.” Jared sounds like what Jensen just said is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “I told them to tell you.”

“Maybe they wanted it to be a surprise?” Jensen guesses. “Obviously they didn’t get the memo about how the twelve steps aren’t super compatible with shocking revelations.”

Jared licks his lips, the playfulness that had been in his expression just seconds ago replaced by something much more serious. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through that. I just thought it would be better if we did this without people around.”

“God, but Jared, I…” Jensen looks up at him, afraid to ask what exactly they are about to be doing. If it was joy or heartbreak Jared wanted to give him privacy to express.

Before he can find the words to ask, he’s wrapped in two big arms, and Jared pulls him in tight, giving him a warm embrace. “Jensen. I missed you so much.”

Jensen hides his face against Jared’s chest, unashamed that he stays there as long as Jared will have him. When Jared finally pulls away, he gives Jensen a shaky smile and says, “So, uh. How have you been?”

“Good,” Jensen answers, because it’s actually the truth, and, god, he’s wanted to tell Jared so many times. So many little things. He has a notebook, a goddamn notebook full of things to tell Jared. Now that he’s actually standing here, the thought of pulling it out and going through it line by line is just socially awkward, but he’d dutifully kept it, nice and orderly.

“Good,” Jared echoes. “That’s good.”

“Yeah!” Jensen replies. “How…how about you?”

“I’m starting school next week,” Jared tells him. "Back at the nursing program at UT. Thought about taking some summer classes, but I was kind of overwhelmed with the house renovations—"

“The house!" Jensen says, thinking his smile might break his face in half. "How's it looking? I want to hear everything.”

“Me too.” Jared seems almost shy as he takes Jensen’s hand, like he’s actually not sure if it’s okay. “I mean, I want to hear everything about what you've been up to. I won’t pretend I don’t know some.”

Jensen laughs. “I was pretty hard to avoid for a while there. Even I was sick of seeing myself on magazine covers.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jared says, huffing a laugh. "That one photoshoot you did, shirtless with the dripping paint all down your chest? I've put that one to good use."

"I figured you probably needed to update your poster collection," Jensen jokes.

Jared laughs softly and then gives him an encouraging look. "Tell me, though, in your words. I want to know what wasn't in the magazines."

Jensen thinks for a moment before offering, "Did you know I changed labels?"

"No," Jared replies. "I didn't."

"Told the fine folks at CW where they could stick it," he says puffing up his chest. "I didn't want to stay with them, even when they said they were willing to see if there was a good way to spin the whole 'gay thing' if I insisted on coming out."

"Good for you!" Jared replies. "Long overdue."

"My new rep is much smaller, but I'm by far their biggest name, so they've invested most of their resources in supporting my current project."

"I was gonna say," Jared replies, laughing a little. "The stadium tour didn't exactly feel low budget."

"It was a gamble, spending so much when no one was really sure people would still be buying my stuff. It feels good, though, working alongside smaller acts." Jensen smiles to himself. "I'm bringing a lot of focus to some really talented people that might not have gotten noticed otherwise. Especially with the way things are selling…" Jensen laughs. "Who would have thought coming out would create such a buzz? I think I somehow got _more_ famous."

Jared goes quiet for a moment and then his voice gets very soft, “I read the article.”

“Ah,” Jensen replies, swallowing hard. “ _The_ Article.”

Jared squeezes his hand, a warm gesture of support that Jensen's not sure he deserves. “It’s killed me the last few months, not being able to tell you how goddamn proud I was.”

“Should have done it a long time ago,” he says.

"The point is that you did it, and you did it big." Jared ducks his head to make sure he catches Jensen's eyes. "You're a role model for gay kids, like you always wanted."

Jensen snorts. "More of a cautionary tale than a role model."

“Don’t dismiss how huge it was,” Jared tells him. “You didn’t just come out. That interview was raw, it was powerful. I felt like I was falling for you all over again.”

“Again?” Jensen asks, cutting his glance away and trying not to sound bitter. He's not, really. He knows now on the other side of it that the space Jared put between them was necessary. He would have rebuilt his life around Jared given the chance, and then it wouldn't have been his. Still, no one likes saying 'I love you' and not hearing it back. “I thought it was too soon to call what we did falling.”

“Of course we were falling," Jared says, laughing dismissively. "Just because it wasn't love yet doesn't mean we weren't on our way. Do you have any idea what it did to me, hearing your name and seeing your face everywhere I went and not being able to talk to you for six never-ending months? My feelings for you not being strong enough was never the issue."

"Yeah, I get it." Jensen sighs and admits, "And you were right. We wouldn't have made it."

Jared’s face changes. Suddenly he drops Jensen’s hands. “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I thought—I just assumed you would still feel the way...I understand you’ve probably met a lot of people since we were together. Of course you’ve moved on.”

“Moved on,” Jensen repeats.

“I memorized the answer,” Jared says quietly, starting to turn a sweet shade of pink. “When the interviewer asked if there was a man in your life and you said—”

“I hope so,” Jensen fills in, meeting Jared’s eyes and smiling faintly. “But that’s for him to decide.”

Jared frowns. “I thought it was me.”

“You _are_ stupid,” Jensen says, not sure where along the line he's been subtle about where he stands on this. Jared's the one who wasn't convinced. Jensen knew the first time he heard Jared butcher one of his songs on a six-string who he wanted to die next to someday.

"I even thought the concert date meant something." Jared picks up the ticket hanging around his neck and inspects it as if he's checking to see if the information on it changed. "Six months since you left."

"Six months and three days," Jensen corrects, because the damned venue was booked and that was the closest he could get.

"Just a coincidence, then." Jared winces as he drops his ticket and Jensen sees his eyes starting to go puppy dog wide. “I’m thinking maybe I should go.”

“Of course it was you.” Jensen catches Jared’s wrist and pulls him back as he tries to leave. “It was you. It’s still you. It’s always going to be you.”

“Really?” Jared asks, looking up with big, hopeful eyes. “Because I would understand if—”

“Shut up already,” Jensen says, grabbing his face and pulling him in. Jared kisses him as soon as their mouths touch, wrapping his arms around Jensen and holding him as they each go deeper.

They make-out for a long time, until finally Jared hangs back, grinning as he presses his forehead to Jensen’s. “Can we do this? For real, can we make this work?”

“We can try our damnedest. I've got plans. Reasonable ones, this time." Jared laughs at that and Jensen goes on, "An album to record—one with my own stuff on it, songs I'm proud of. We already know a good studio here in Austin, don't we?”

Jared lets out a sound of pure relief, and Jensen almost has to look away from him. He thought he was remembering wrong these last few months since he’d last seen Jared. He thought it was his brain embellishing. He’d convinced himself there was no way Jared was actually this beautiful. If anything, the memories didn’t do him justice.

“Can we…?” Jensen looks around the hotel suite, which is one of the finest in town, and finds it lacking. Not nearly enough hideous floral curtains. “Can we go home, Jared?” 

Jared makes a hesitant face and tells him, "It's not really up to your standards. Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"

He sees something in Jared's face then that has never been there before and recognizes insecurity. Jared is rich in so many ways it’s easy to miss when you stack them next to a gaudy statement of wealth like this hotel suite. It hadn't occurred to Jensen that Jared still hasn't seen how _he_ lives, hasn't confronted the other side of the coin when it comes to how different their lifestyles are. And it's hard to make it clear that all he wants is something humble with Jared without sounding trite. 

"I'm sure," he says. "I even miss the demonic clown figurines."

"Oh, good." Jared grins. "I got rid of a lot of stuff, but I kept those in your room."

Jensen shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm not sleeping in there."

After a small period of consideration, Jared insists, "I'm serious, though. We should just stay here. The house is a wreck. It's in the middle of a serious renovation right now, the floor has been torn out, there's dust everywhere."

"Do you want to stay here?" Jensen asks. When Jared doesn't answer, Jensen tries, "Or do you not want me to see your house?"

"It's bad enough that you ever had to downgrade like that." Jared glances around the suite and then looks down at the floor. "Fuck, I didn't even realize how inadequate it must have felt for you until I saw all this."

Jensen's overwhelming instinct is to throttle himself, because Jared might not be feeling this way if the first thing he did when he arrived at Jared's house hadn't been to belittle the size and outdated décor. But that wouldn't be helpful, so he goes with his second instinct, which is to be horrendously blunt and risk pissing Jared off.

"The fact that my house is bigger than yours is probably not going to change," he says. "My bank account is not going anywhere. My career—despite all my best efforts—doesn't seem to be going anywhere. If you let the things I have intimidate you, this relationship is doomed."

Jared frowns. "I don't want that."

Stepping forward and wrapping both hands around one of Jared's, Jensen says, "Neither do I. We're going to have to get comfortable with each other's new lives. That might not be easy, but I believe it's possible. If I didn't love your house, I wouldn't be asking to go there. You told me once not to doubt someone saying something good if it felt true. Does it feel like I'm lying?"

Jared smiles at that. It's a small smile and Jensen can tell they'll still have work to do here, but that's okay. He can do a lot with the right motivation. What matters is that he's about to leave here through the front entrance holding Jared's hand. And if the paparazzi is waiting, they can get their pictures. The whole world can join him in wondering how a prick like Jensen Ackles could get this fucking lucky.

As they walk towards the door, Jared says, "The concert tonight was incredible. I knew it would be. I'm dying to hear the new album, the songs you've released so far are revolutionary."

"Thanks," Jensen says. "I can't tell you how many hours I spent changing the set list, trying to make it exactly perfect. In case you were watching."

“I especially loved the last song you did during the encore. You know, the one that you’ve never played for a crowd before…” Jared ducks his head, smiling bashfully as he raises his free hand to rub his neck. “About the man who brought you back from the dead.”

“ _Lazarus Rising_ ,” Jensen answers. “I started writing that on your couch at three in the morning. Six months ago.”

“I thought it sounded familiar.” He watches Jared get pinker and pinker as he blushes. “Was it—? I mean. I don’t know how to ask this without sounding like a total asshole.”

To put Jared out of his misery, Jensen says, “You’re not being vain. The song is about you.”

**THE END.**


End file.
